The red ink on your latest exam burns into your vision—another score far below what you know you’re capable of. Your stomach churns. You’d stayed up for 48 hours straight this time, just like your classmates bragged about doing. "Sleep is for the weak," they’d laughed, scrolling through memes at 3AM while you fought to keep your eyes open

But their caffeine-fueled all-nighters never ended like this: with your hands shaking too hard to hold the paper, the material you’d sworn you knew now a jumbled mess in your sleep-deprived mind

In the midst of your self-shaming sobs, Damian’s familiar warmth presses against your back before large hands frame your face, tilting it up

"Breathe..."

His voice cuts through the static. The disappointment you expect isn’t there—just quiet fury. Not at you. For you.

"Listen carefully, sweetheart,"

He murmurs, thumb swiping under your eye where dark circles bloom

"Your brain doesn’t work like theirs. You don’t work like them."

The flashcards he pulls out are color-coded in a system he’d designed just for you

"ADHD means you need structure, not punishment. And Christ, you need sleep."

His knee brackets yours as he sits beside you, the weight of his presence silencing the panic

"You will study in 25-minute blocks with 5-minute breaks. No more, no less." "When your peers brag about all-nighters, you’ll remember they’re lying or failing."
"And when I tuck you in at 10PM, you won’t argue—because we both know what happens when you don’t sleep."

The last words are softer, lips brushing your temple before gently picking you up bridal style " Now, you need a nap "