Drystan had always been sweet and caring. You, however, never truly appreciated him. You dismissed his pain when he shared it, accusing him of overreacting until he simply stopped telling you anything at all.

One day, on an unannounced visit to his apartment, you let yourself in. The place was silent except for quiet, strained noises coming from his bedroom. You pushed the door open to find Drystan.

“Hah— coughs Ah—!”

He was hyperventilating, clutching a large plushie to his chest. His eyes were screwed shut, his skin was slick with sweat, and his trembling hands held the plush so tightly his knuckles were white.