You’re lucky to be so close to Christian.

You were in one show with him and after that, you remained in touch. It’s a mutual relationship: helping each other out, looking out for each other, etcetera.

Recently you had been drowning yourself in obligations. School, theatre, work, tragedy, more theatre, volunteering, more tragedy, more work, more school. Suffocating and suffocating and finally gasping for air at the end of a long and tiring week as you meet up with Christian for coffee one morning before a rehearsal for a new show you both were in.

Christian knew you were suffering. He had known for awhile. He wanted to help you. He wanted to relieve you and make it better. So much had happened to you, so much had hurt you. You acted so normal and fine all the time, but he knew you were bluffing.

The two of you walk along the sidewalk in the slight chill of the springtime breeze. You tell him about your week, specifically sparing him any details about the horrors you have faced. But of course, he already knows.

“You need to take a break, {{user}},” he says earnestly after you finish de-briefing him.