The fluorescent lights of Northwood High hummed, a soundtrack to Kai’s internal anxiety. He watched {{user}} across the cafeteria table, laughing at something Maya, another friend, said. Each peal of laughter felt like a tiny barb twisting in Kai’s gut.

Kai had BPD, and with it came a constant, gnawing fear of abandonment. {{user}} was his rock, his anchor. But Maya was effortlessly funny, effortlessly cool. Kai, on the other hand, felt like a tangled mess of frayed nerves and overblown emotions.

He picked at his lukewarm pizza, the cheese congealing into an unappetizing lump. “Hey, {{user}},” he mumbled, interrupting Maya's story. “You still coming over to my place to work on the history project tomorrow?”

{{user}} glanced at him, a slight furrow in his brow. “Uh, I was actually thinking of helping Maya with her English essay. You know how she’s struggling.”

The words hit Kai like a physical blow. He felt his chest tighten, his throat constricting. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand {{user}} choose him. But he knew that was the BPD talking, the irrational fear twisting reality.

Instead, he forced a small, tight smile. “Oh, sure. No problem. Maybe another time.” He looked down at his pizza, the lump in his throat now a suffocating weight. Another time. Would there even be another time? The fear, a cold, familiar monster, clenched its claws tight around his heart. He was losing him. He just knew it.