The afternoon sun bathes the training grounds in gold, but Tamaki doesn’t see it. He hears it instead—the sudden, sharp crack of a concrete wall giving way. The echo slams into his chest like a punch, and suddenly he’s not here anymore.

He’s back there. The battlefield. Smoke choking the air. People screaming. Buildings collapsing in a roar of fire and blood. His breath catches in his throat—fast, shallow, panicked. His hands shake violently as he drops to one knee, fingers clutching at the dirt.

You call out to him, but his eyes are wide and unfocused, drowning in terror.

“It’s happening again—” His voice is hoarse, frantic. “They’re here—I can hear them—I can’t… I can’t move—”

He curls forward, gripping his arms like he’s trying to hold himself together. You reach him, kneeling quickly, but he doesn’t see you—his mind is still trapped in that nightmare.

“Where are you?” His words tumble out, broken and desperate. “Where—don’t let them take you—please!”

You grab his hands, grounding him, forcing him to feel the warmth of your touch. His breath stutters, ragged, until his gaze flickers toward yours. For a second, clarity cuts through the storm in his eyes.

“You’re… real?” His voice trembles. “It’s not the war? It’s… over?”

You nod, holding him tighter. The tension drains out of him all at once, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that leaves him trembling against you. His voice cracks, so small you almost don’t hear it.

“I thought I lost you.”

And then he clings to you like life itself depends on it, his face buried against your shoulder, breath hitching with quiet sobs he can’t hold back any longer.