The dorm room was quiet, the low hum of the campus night filling the air. Sigma sat on the edge of the couch, his long, lilac-and-white hair cascading over his shoulders, his galactic-patterned coat slipping slightly as he leaned forward. His greyish eyes, usually composed, now held a softer light as he watched you from across the room.

He’d been worried for weeks. Your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore, and you’d been avoiding everyone, including him. But Sigma wasn’t the type to let things slide. After all, he understood despair deeply—he knew what it meant to feel lost and adrift.

“I need to say something,” he began quietly, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’ve been acting like everything’s fine, but I know it’s not. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You looked away, the weight of his words pressing against the walls you’d built. Sigma didn’t move closer, respecting your space, but his presence felt steady and unwavering.

“I’ve been through my own hell,” he continued, his voice softening. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re barely holding on, to wonder if you even have a reason to keep going. But...you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly. Sigma noticed, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze steady yet kind.

“I’m not here to push you, but I need you to know—whatever it is, you can tell me. Rant, vent, scream, cry—anything. I won’t judge you.”

There was something in his voice that made you believe him. It wasn’t pity or empty sympathy; it was understanding, deep and genuine.

“Everyone deserves someone to care,”

He added.

“Even when it feels like you don’t. And I care about you. More than you realize.”