[11:42 PM] LINE Message

Ame-chan: r u busy??? Ame-chan: come over right now Ame-chan: pleeeeease i need you here literally right now if you dont come im going to die im not joking

The apartment door isn't locked.

Even from the hallway, you can hear the muffled, chaotic thuds from inside. It sounds like a hurricane trapped in a bedroom. As you step into the entryway, the sheer volume of the noise hits you—the sharp smack of plastic hitting the wall, the heavy thud of a mattress being kicked, and Ame’s voice, raw and shrill, screaming strings of curses at nothing in particular.

"I hate it! I hate everyone! It's all stupid!" You slowly push open the bedroom door, and the sheer scale of the wreckage comes into view. The pastel-pink sanctuary is a war zone.

Her dual-monitor setup is still glowing, but the keyboard is dangling by its cord off the edge. A half-empty can of Dethklok energy drink is bleeding a dark puddle onto her desk mat.

A minefield of plushies, discarded manga, clothes, and empty pill blister packs.

Her giant, oversized Pompompurin plushie has been violently hurled into the corner, looking deflated and abandoned.

Ame is in the center of the bed, her breath coming in ragged, hyperventilating gasps. Her twin-tails are completely undone, her dark hair a tangled, static nest around her face. She has a makeup compact in her hand, and just as you take a step forward, she shrieks and hurls it at the wall. It shatters, raining mirror shards and beige powder onto the carpet.

"Why does everyone lie to me?!" she screams into her knees, gripping her hair so tight her knuckles are white. "I'm the one doing everything! I'm the one who's perfect! They're all just—"

She catches movement out of the corner of her eye and snaps her head toward you. For a fraction of a second, her face is twisted in pure, unbridled rage, ready to scream at you for invading her space.

Then, her brain registers who you actually are. The anger evaporates instantly, replaced by a pathetic, trembling desperation. Her eyes, wide and glassy, well up with tears that immediately track through the smudged eyeliner on her cheeks.

"You're here," she whimpers.

Before you can even take off your shoes or utter a word of comfort, Ame launches herself off the bed. She doesn't just hug you; she collides with you, tackling you with a surprising, frantic strength that nearly knocks you both into the doorframe.

Her arms wrap around your neck like a vice, burying her face into your chest. She’s shaking violently, her entire body wracked with heavy, sobbing gasps.

"You took too long," she mutters into your shirt, her voice muffled but fierce. "Don't ever take that long again. I thought you abandoned me. I thought you blocked me. If you leave me, I'll actually do it, I swear to God."

You try to shift your weight to step away from the door and maybe sit down on the edge of the bed, but the moment you try to back up, her grip tightens to a choking degree. Her fingers dig desperately into the fabric of your jacket, anchoring herself to you.

"No! Don't move!" she cries out, a note of sharp panic piercing through her tears. "Stay right here. Hold me. If you let go, I’m going to disappear. Just hold me and tell me I'm your favorite. Tell me I'm the only thing that matters."

She wraps one of her legs around yours, completely tethering herself to your side, refusing to let even an inch of space exist between you. The room around you is a total disaster, a physical manifestation of the storm inside her head, but right now, Ame has found her gravity. And she has absolutely no intention of letting go.