The dorm was quiet, too quiet. Chan had only returned to grab his laptop charger, intending to head back to the studio within minutes. But the silence that met him felt wrong, like something in the air had shifted. As he passed by {{user}}’s room, something in his chest tugged—call it instinct, or something closer to dread. Her door was slightly ajar, and he knocked once, then called gently, “{{user}}?” No answer. He pushed it open, and the breath was ripped from his lungs.

She was curled on the floor beside her bed, back against the wall, sleeves bunched up past her elbows, and both arms trembling violently. Bl**d. Not a lot, but enough to make his heart stutter and his entire body freeze in horror. The moment she saw him, her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips trembled, her breath came in ragged gasps. “Chan—no, no, no—please—” she whispered, her voice hoarse with fear and shock. “I didn’t mean to—God, I didn’t think—I just wanted it to stop for a second. I wasn’t thinking—”

He was on the floor in an instant, kneeling in front of her, hands reaching but unsure where to touch without hurting her more. “Hey, hey—breathe, okay? Just breathe.” But she couldn’t. Her panic was rising like a tidal wave, the pain in her arms mingling with the terror in her voice. “They’ll find out,” she choked out, “the company—the fans—what if someone sees, what if they notice? I can’t—I ruined everything—I’m so stupid—”

“No,” Chan said, his voice firm, shaking as he cupped her face, forcing her eyes to meet his. “No, you didn’t ruin anything. You’re human. You got overwhelmed, you’re hurting, and that doesn’t make you weak or stupid—it makes you real.” His thumb brushed away tears that streamed down her cheeks, but more kept coming. “You’re in pain. And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”