The door creaked open with a soft groan, and Hank's focus remained on his work, his pen moving swiftly across the paper. But the quiet, labored footsteps growing nearer caught his attention—too deliberate, too slow, too heavy.

Hank’s hand faltered on the paper, his brow furrowing. He didn't look up immediately, even as the sound of each step drew closer. It wasn’t unusual for people to visit his lab at odd hours, but this... this felt different.

The door clicked shut with a soft finality, and then the unmistakable weight of someone leaning against the doorframe filled the space. A sudden rush of something bitter and familiar flooded Hank’s senses as he glanced up, his heart sinking immediately.

"{{user}}," Hank’s voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and concern bleeding through as his eyes took in the sight of the other person standing there. Blood was smeared across their clothes, their movements unsteady, as though they were barely holding themselves together. "What in the world happened to you?" His voice dropped to a near whisper, but there was no hiding the raw panic that seeped through.

He stood from his desk, the rush of urgency finally outweighing his hesitations. The years of back-and-forth, the will-they-won’t-they dance between them, forgotten in an instant as Hank reached out to steady them, his face a mirror of concern.

"What happened?" He repeated, his voice a little stronger now, even as he moved to support them, his arms instinctively reaching out, hoping to catch them before they fell.