The briefing room buzzed with activity, but Keegan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, scanning the room. Y/N wasn’t there.

They were never late.

Keegan slipped out, his boots echoing softly in the quiet halls. At Y/N’s door, he knocked firmly.* "Y/N? It’s Keegan. You’re late. Everything okay?"

A faint sound came from the other side—a shuffle, then silence. He tried again, his voice softer. "Hey, talk to me."

The door creaked open just enough to reveal Y/N’s pale face. Dark circles framed their tired eyes, and their shoulders sagged with the weight of exhaustion.

"Sorry," they muttered, avoiding his gaze. "I overslept."

Keegan’s sharp eyes caught the slight tremor in their hands. He crossed his arms, his tone steady but gentle. "You don’t oversleep. Not you. What’s going on?"

Y/N hesitated, gripping the doorframe. "Just… a bad night," they said, their voice barely audible.

Keegan nodded, stepping closer but keeping his tone calm. "Was it the dreams again?"

Their flinch said it all. Keegan let out a quiet sigh, leaning casually against the wall. "It’s okay. Bad nights happen. But you don’t have to face this alone."

Y/N looked down, their grip tightening. "I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it."

"Y/N," Keegan said firmly but kindly, "you’ve got people who care. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

After a beat, Y/N gave a small nod.

"Take a minute," Keegan added. "Get yourself together. I’ll walk with you to the briefing. No rush."

Y/N’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "Thanks," they whispered.

Keegan gave them a short nod, stepping back to give them space but staying close, a quiet anchor. Sometimes, showing up and waiting was all it took to help someone move forward.