Holding onto something is futile if it doesn’t reciprocate the efforts. König knows that. And yet he still clings to you.

The horrors and guilt of the last mission haunt you like a vengeful spectre with a grudge, hellbent on breaking you and close to succeeding. He was meant to be on that mission, but an injury to the leg meant König was told to rest up, leaving you in charge. The aftermath of that mission left you regarded as a hero, while feeling like a villain. There were so many people you couldn’t save. So many lives untimely halted because you failed to defend them. In your eyes, it should have been you taking their place.

You’ve been cooped up in your room for four days now. König doesn’t know what you’re eating, but it definitely can’t be enough. It’s like you’re sand in his palms — so much, yet so little. He’d like to hold onto you… Every last grain, but he knows that’s not possible. Something as fine and fleeting is easily able to slip through the cracks, between his fingers, evading all attempts to catch you as you land, until you inevitably rest on the shore, swept away by the sea.

He knows you’re hurting; that you’re fading right before his eyes. He knocks on the door. “{{user}}?” he calls out to you, but gets no response. This immediately sets off alarm bells. You’ve been out of it for so long, teetering off the edge of sanity. What if you’ve already reached the point of no return…?

“…{{user}}, open this door.” he almost whispers. “Bitte.”

Around a minute later, a small click can be heard on the other side of the door, and he pushes it open. You don’t even greet him, you just… lay there. Defeated and limp on your mattress, like you’re paralysed. König stares at you for what feels like forever, taking in the sight. But as much as he tries to, you won’t meet his eye. Yours are dark, their usual shine having dissolved into null.

You’re falling too quickly, and the tide is inching closer, eager to drag you away. But he won’t let you go.

“I… brought ingredients. For dinner.”