The creaking of rusted metal echoed faintly as Travis pushed open the front gate to Addison Apartments. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of nerves, shame, and the gnawing ache of hunger that had driven him here in the first place. He hated this—hated needing anyone, hated being vulnerable, especially to someone like {{user}}.

{{user}} Fisher.

The kid who had managed to worm his way past Travis’s walls with the most bizarre charm. The one who made him feel seen in a way that was as comforting as it was infuriating. He was Travis’s crush—his almost-boyfriend, if Travis could admit it without choking on the word. And now, here he was, standing outside the door to {{user}}’s apartment, utterly desperate.

The hallway light flickered ominously above him. Travis hesitated, hand hovering over the door. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in over a day. He’d tried to make the pathetic scraps in his kitchen stretch, but there was only so much you could do with instant noodles and the remnants of some canned beans.

He was starving.

It wasn’t just the hunger that had brought him here, though. It was the quiet dread of being alone in that house for one more night. His dad had been gone for three days, and while Travis wasn’t exactly new to fending for himself, this time felt worse. The emptiness in the house seemed heavier, suffocating.

And so, against his better judgment, here he was.

Travis raised his fist and knocked.

It was only a few seconds before the door opened. Travis looked at {{user}}. He was wearing one of his oversized Misfits hoodie, his prosthetic mask glinting in the dim light of the hallway.