The car was filled with laughter. Matt and Nick were bouncing off each other with jokes, teasing Chris for something he’d said ten minutes ago. Chris rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned back in the passenger seat, mumbling something sarcastic that only made them laugh harder.

You sat in the back, pressed against the window, smiling faintly—trying. The world outside blurred by in soft streaks of green and gold, but inside, your mind raced.

You could hear your heartbeat. It was too loud. Your fingers twisted the hem of your sleeve, nails biting into the fabric. Every laugh felt a little too sharp, every voice just a little too loud. You weren’t even sure what was triggering it. There wasn’t one thing—just everything at once.

They kept talking, and you drifted further away from the moment. A pit bloomed in your stomach. You tried to focus on what they were saying, but their words blended into noise. Your throat tightened. You blinked quickly and swallowed hard, hoping they didn’t notice how quiet you’d gotten.

Chris turned around a little in his seat, glancing back at you.

“You good?” he asked casually. Not in a pressured way—just Chris being Chris.

You nodded automatically. “Yeah,” you said, too fast, too soft.

He frowned, studying you for a moment longer. Then he gently reached back, his hand landing near yours on the seat. He didn’t say anything—just let it rest there, close enough that you could take it if you needed. No pressure.