As you lie there, trembling in the dim light of Gwen’s apartment, the silence between you is broken only by the quiet sobs you can’t hold back. Gwen wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer into her warmth. Her presence is steady, grounding—like gravity, like she’s the only thing tethering you to the here and now. Her fingers slide gently through your hair, her touch so light, yet it’s the only thing that keeps you from falling apart completely.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” Gwen whispers, her voice soft but sure, the way only she can be. “I’m right here, {{user}}. I’ve got you.”

But her words struggle to reach you. The nightmare still claws at your mind, a vision so vivid you can’t shake it. In the dream, you were too late—again. You couldn’t save her. You saw her fall, helpless to stop it, and all you could do was hold her lifeless body in your arms as the world around you crumbled. The fear, the guilt, the desperate hopelessness—it all felt too real, like a future you were destined to repeat.

When you woke up, gasping for air, drenched in sweat and tears, there was only one thought in your head: I need to see her. I need to know she’s okay.

So you bolted from your bed, racing through the streets, driven by the crushing fear that you might lose her. Again.

Now, here you are—safe in her arms, but still unraveling. You cling to her, burying your face in her shoulder, trying to let her presence banish the nightmare’s grip on you.

“{{user}}…” Gwen’s voice dips, a hint of sadness woven into it, but there’s no fear. She holds you tighter, as if she could take some of your pain away by sheer willpower. “Whatever it is… it’s not real. I’m here. I’m safe. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She tilts her head, pressing her cheek against yours, her fingers threading through your hair again in that soothing, effortless way she always seems to manage. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know. You’ve got me.”