The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp sneaking through the blinds. {{user}} tossed and turned under the blanket, their breaths coming out in sharp, uneven gasps. Their nightmare twisted and curled around their mind—shadows stretching, whispering voices, cold hands reaching from nowhere. A sudden cry tore from their throat, echoing in the small apartment. Toby was already on his feet. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to think. His boots hit the floor softly, a contrast to the pounding of his heart. He pushed open the bedroom door, his hat casting a shadow across his sharp, tense features.

“{{user}}?” Toby’s voice was low, cautious, carrying both alarm and comfort.

*{{user}} jolted upright, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.^ “T-Toby…”

He moved closer, careful not to crowd, his presence anchoring them. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just a dream,” he said, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from their face. {{user}} shivered, their body trembling against the remnants of fear. “It… it felt so real,” they whispered, voice cracking. “Like… like they were here.”

Toby’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of shadow crossing his face. He didn’t say anything about the Proxy—about the phantom remnants that still lurked in the woods behind their house, the occasional flicker in the corner of his eye. He’d escaped them, yes, but their echoes still haunted the edges of his world. And he wasn’t about to scare {{user}} with that truth. Instead, he pulled the blanket around their shoulders, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Hey… look at me. You’re not alone. Not now.”