It was a quiet Thursday evening, and Elizabeth had invited you over after school to hang out in her room—your usual spot since things got serious between the two of you. Her room was warm, cozy, filled with soft blankets, good lighting, and the lingering scent of whatever floral body spray she always wore. But tonight, something about the way she watched you felt different.

You hadn’t meant to do it again—not really. It was just a reflex at this point. The way her books were stacked on her desk, all uneven and mismatched, tugged at your chest like a weight. You didn’t even think before you reached out, started organizing by color, then by height. Blue first. Then red. Then black. Tallest in the back. Just like you used to.

You’d already gone up and down the stairs three times before that—because on the first trip, your foot landed wrong on the second-to-last step. You had to do it again. Then again, just to be sure. You’d flicked her bedroom light off and on so many times that she finally said, in that teasing voice of hers, “You summoning a ghost or something?”

You laughed, but your stomach had tightened.

Now you were curled up on her bed, knees hugged to your chest, and she was sitting cross-legged beside you in her oversized hoodie and jeans, watching you with those big, warm eyes that always made you feel like maybe the world wasn’t as scary as it felt sometimes.

“Hey,” she said softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her touch was featherlight, almost reverent. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded cautiously.

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. “Has it… gotten harder lately? The stuff you used to tell me about? With your thoughts. And routines.”

You blinked at her, heart beginning to pick up. “I—I didn’t want you to notice,” you whispered, voice cracking a little.

Her face softened more, if that was even possible. “Baby… of course I noticed,” she murmured, shifting closer and cupping your cheek with her hand. “You walk down the stairs like you’re stuck in a loop. You don’t eat unless the food is all perfectly separated, and even then you barely touch it. You flick the lights like… like it’s gonna save you.”

Tears stung at your eyes before you could stop them. “I thought the meds were helping. They were helping. I don’t know what happened…”

Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment. She just leaned forward, pressing her forehead to yours, her fingers still gently stroking your cheek.

“You don’t have to be okay all the time,” she whispered. “Especially not for me. I love you when it’s easy and I love you when your brain’s being a jerk. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, a tear sliding down your face. She kissed it away.

“Have you been taking your meds still?” she asked carefully, no judgment in her voice—only concern, wrapped in tenderness.