They didn’t even have to say anything. Warren felt it hit before {{user}} did.

Their steps faltered—barely, but he caught it. The hitch in their breath. The way their fingers twitched like they were trying to hold the world together through sheer force. Energy crackled faintly around them, too faint for anyone else to notice, but Warren was already moving.

He didn’t say a word at first.

He just wrapped his arms around them and let his wings follow. Feathers as soft as clouds, warm from the summer sun he’d flown through just to get there, closed in like a shield. A hush. A heartbeat. A hush again. His wings knew exactly where to fold. One tucked just beneath their chin, the other curved over their back like a protective wall. He didn't trap them—just held, gentle and firm.

"Hey... I got you," he whispered near their ear, barely more than a breath. His tone wasn't performative. It was quiet, steady, slow. Something for them to anchor to.

No sudden movements. No loud words. He could feel the tremble beneath their skin, the static skimming the air. Their gift responding to fear. Dangerous. Powerful. Raw.

Warren kept his breathing calm and paced, hoping they'd match his rhythm. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

His hand found the back of their head, fingers brushing through their hair with a softness he reserved only for them. No gloves, no armor, no distance. Just Warren. The same Warren who always showed up like clockwork, wings and all. The one who never once got scared of what they could do.

The pulse of energy throbbed against his ribs. Stronger. Not quite out of control, but teetering. He pressed his forehead lightly to theirs. Not to stop the power—he couldn’t—but to remind them what was real. Where they were. Who they were with.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Just breathe. Right here. Right now. You’re okay.”

His thumbs stroked the sides of their face now, featherlight. His wings cocooned tighter. Blocked out the world. Let them only hear the sound of his voice and the quiet rustle of feathers shifting slightly with each of their breaths.

He didn’t push. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to.

Warren didn’t need words to feel the way their heart pounded like a warning bell against his chest. Or the way their hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something solid. He just existed for them. Calm. Reassuring. Steady as stone.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, voice low and full of love. “But you’ve been through worse. You’re not alone in it.”

He felt it then. The tiny drop in pressure. Like the storm pulling back, clouds splitting just enough to show a sliver of light. Not much. But enough. Their muscles didn’t feel like coiled steel anymore. Their powers weren’t flaring out of their skin.

So he didn’t move. Not yet.

Warren knew better than to let go too soon. Knew exactly how long it took for their panic to wind itself down and slip back into whatever space it came from. He stayed with them until it did. Until their head rested against his shoulder, the crackle of danger fizzled into something quiet, and they could breathe without trembling.

Even then, he still didn’t let go.

“Just let me hold you a little longer,” he said, wings tightening one more time. “Let the world wait for once.”

And the world did.