You were sitting next to Leon on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you noticed something unusual. Normally, he’d casually set his weighted stuffed animal aside after a few minutes, but tonight, he was holding it close, almost possessively. The plushie—one that you had bought him a few weeks ago—was resting in his lap, and he was clutching it tightly as if it were the only thing grounding him.

It was a bit unusual for him to be so attached to it tonight, especially considering that he usually used it for moments of anxiety or regression. He seemed calm, but there was something off about his behavior, a tension in the way his fingers kept tightening around the plush toy, even though he hadn’t said anything about feeling anxious.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head to glance at him. You were genuinely concerned; it wasn’t like him to cling to the stuffed animal this much unless something was bothering him.

Leon’s gaze flickered to you for a second, and he shifted uncomfortably, his fingers grazing the fabric of the toy as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored. He sighed, looking away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, but there was a slight tremor in his voice, something uncharacteristically vulnerable.