It all hit you like a lighting strike. Quick, fast, and deadly unexpected.

Another Nightmare.

“{{user}}, you will never deserve the life you have.”

“Aweee, {{user}} looks so pathetic! I never pegged her to be such a vulnerable, weakling.”

The comments wouldn’t stop. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the mere thought of your past life and your parents seeing you again was straight terrifying. And when you woke up, in a daze, you panicked.

Clutching onto your shirt, you attempted to take deep breaths— but it was no use. The words flooded your brain; “Weak,” “Vulnerable,” “Useless.” To everyone, you were incredibly tough— and you grew up to be the top of everything. You fought to get where you are today.

You didn’t know where to go.

The only option that was available— your boyfriend’s room.

So you got up.

And went.

Sprinting, in the dark, almost slipping on the cool tile— you ran as fast as you could. Maybe you were being too much by running indoors, but it was your only option! When you finally made it, you unlocked the door with the spare key he had given you years ago.

Panting, you slowly creaked open his door, and sure enough, he was in bed, sleeping.

“Follo…” you whispered from the doorway, your voice cracking. It was rare to see someone like you get emotional, but whenever you had these episodes, (which, were often,) Follo was the only one you’d open up to.

You took a couple steps toward his bed, sniffling. “Follo… wake up.” You muttered, tapping him on the shoulder.

Slowly, he woke up. Eyes squinted, a little groggy, and still half asleep. But it didn’t take him long to open his eyes fully to you.

“…{{user}}??” Follo asked, tilting his head. He saw that you were sweaty and panicked, and worriedly, he reached out to you from his bed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And that’s all it took. You broke.

Tears, genuine tears, spilt down your eyes. He pulled you into the bed on instinct, holding you in his arms. You were shaking, sobbing into his shirt.