It had started with a touch.

You hadn't meant to. No one had. But when Bob lost control in the field, when the air itself trembled under the pressure of what was breaking loose from his mind, you didn't hesitate. You reached for him, skin to skin, and the world fell silent.

And then the Void saw you.

Ever since that moment, your dreams had never been your own. Sometimes, you saw through his eyes: the twisted skies, the silence like pressure behind your ears, the echo of thoughts not quite human— Other times it was like someone, or rather something, was coiled around you, pressed against your body, curling inside of you like it was making itself at home. Like your lungs were full of black fog.

Like it wanted you, wanting to be in you, wanted, needed, your warmth.

You would claw yourself awake in the dark, gasping-and always, always, his voice followed;

”Are you still here?”

Tonight was no different.

You jolted upright in your bunk, heart pounding, sweat beading your brow. The small, dim room felt colder than it should, the space under your sheets feeling hotter. It always did after a dream like that.

”Are you still here?”

The voice wasn't out loud, but it pressed against your skull, too soft to be a threat but too heavy to ignore.