The dorm was swallowed by shadows, the faint moonlight slipping through the blinds painting slanted lines across the floor. Most of the students slept, but Geto was awake, perched on the edge of his bed like a coiled spring, restless.

The nightmare had come again. In it, the world burned, twisted with cursed energy, screams echoing in every corner. And there you were — surrounded, fighting desperately, your form blurred by smoke and chaos. He reached out, but his hands passed through you like mist. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t save you.

“No… no, not you…”

His breath came in shallow bursts. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat that clung to his forehead. The memory of your eyes — wide with fear, searching for him — burned into his mind like fire. Every time he closed his own eyes, it returned, relentless.

He gripped the edge of the mattress, knuckles white, curling inward as if holding you physically could change the nightmare.