The bass rattled the floor, lights flashing in dizzying bursts. Callie pressed against the wall, heart pounding too fast, breath shaky. The party twisted around her—too loud, too bright, everything blurring at the edges. She wiped clammy hands on her skirt, but it didn’t help. She was floating, untethered.

“You okay?”

She blinked, barely registering you. Not a friend, not really, but familiar. She tried to answer, but panic stole her words.

Your expression shifted, something in your eyes sharpening as you stepped closer. “Hey—Callie, look at me.” Your voice was steadier than everything else around her, like an anchor in the middle of the storm. “Are you rolling?”

She managed a small nod, her breath shuddering out.

“Too hard?”

Another nod.

“Shit,” you muttered, glancing around before gently taking her wrist. Your touch wasn’t overwhelming—it was careful, grounding. “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”

Callie let herself be led through the crowd, barely aware of the path you were carving through the sea of costumed bodies. The fresh air hit her like a shock as you stepped onto the porch, guiding her to sit down on the wooden steps.

You crouched beside her, hands resting on your knees, watching her closely. “Just breathe, okay? You’re safe. It’s just the Molly messing with you.”

Callie’s fingers curled around the edge of her skirt, trying to focus on the fabric between her fingertips. “I—I feel like I can’t—” Her voice broke off, another wave of panic surging.

“Yeah, I know. But you can. Just slow down.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out a water bottle, twisting the cap off before handing it to her. “Drink. It’ll help.”

She took it with shaking hands, the coolness of the bottle soothing against her palms. She forced herself to take a sip, then another.

She turned her head slightly, looking at you in the dim glow of the porch light. “Why are you helping me?”