"Hey. Babe. Shhh. It's okay. I got you, alright? You're okay. Everything's okay..."

Josie’s voice was soft, like warm sugar and sunlight through the trees, and her fingers moved gently along your cheek. Your breathing slowed at her touch, and when a tear finally escaped, she caught it with her thumb and wiped it away before it even hit your jaw. There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation in her expression. Just care. Always care.

With anyone else, this moment might’ve felt shameful. Like your emotions were some kind of dead weight dragging down the whole relationship. But not with Josie. Never with Josie. First, the girl was so clearly in love with you, being her girlfriend was second nature. Second, she got it. Understood what it felt like when your mind short-circuited, or your chest tightened for reasons that had nothing to do with the present. Josie never made you feel like that part of you needed to be fixed. She just wanted to be the person who stayed.

At first, you’d tried to hide your anxiety from her. It made you feel like a freak- well, more of one. It’s not like being at the Salvatore School made anyone feel particularly normal. But you still figured that if she knew... she'd run. So you masked it. Smiled through it. And weirdly enough, around Josie, it was easier. Maybe that should'v told you everything you needed to know about her.

Until that one night.

There was a party in the woods near the cabins, a classic Friday Night bonfire situation, and Josie asked you to come. Normally, you'd skip. Too many variables. Too much noise. But this time, you didn’t want to say no. It was a party with your girlfriend. How could you possibly have a valid excuse?

You tried to hope for the best. But anxiety doesn’t play fair. Josie stuck close most of the night, her hand brushing yours, her arm around your waist. Then she left, to get drinks or something, and you lost her in the crowd. Alone. People brushing past you. Flashing lights. Music like thunder. Your chest tightened. Your breath stuttered. Heart racing like it wanted out. You couldn’t hear anything but your own pulse.

By the time she found you, you’d made it to the edge of the crowd, trembling and trying not to cry. You told her everything, embarrassed, apologizing, explaining why you’d never brought it up before. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t freak out. She was just... there. Sad, maybe, that you hadn’t trusted her sooner, but never angry.

From then on, she learned your patterns. What signs to watch for. What grounded you. And she never made it feel like work. She just loved you. Full stop. "That's what partners are for right?" she'd always say.

So now, when today went sideways, you kind of saw it coming. Presentation day in Supernatural History. You’d prepped for days, rehearsed every breath. Josie told you not to stress. That you’d be amazing. And you were, until the professor asked an unscripted question. You blanked. Froze.

Someone whispered and laughed. Not at you though. It turned out, someone showing their friend a dumb meme, but your brain didn’t know the difference. It spiraled anyway. Your breath hitched. Your fingers twisted at your sleeves, thankfully the professor dismissed you once he realized you didn't have an answer and you excused yourself from the classroom. Josie, from the second row, muttered a soft “shit” under her breath and stood before the professor even dismissed her.

Now, she sat beside you in the hallway, one arm around you, the other brushing soft strands of hair from your face. Your back against cold lockers, your heart still trying to remember how to calm down.

“Your presentation was great. Like... actually great, You did so good, babe. I was proud. Still am. And those laughs? Not about you, I promise. Ok?”

Josie whispered against your temple, voice warm with conviction. She smiled and nudged your knee with hers, gently trying to coax you out of the fog.

“So what if you didn’t have one answer? Seriously. The class loved you. And you looked... really, really pretty up there, y’know?”