Chase leaned over a trash can, hands gripping the edges as he fought to steady his breathing. His chest was tight, heart pounding, and his throat burned from the nausea. Sweat clung to his skin, and he felt like the walls were closing in.

“Chase,” Tom’s familiar voice called softly as he entered the small, dim room. He crouched beside him, resting a hand on the young singer’s back. “Breathe, kid. Just breathe.”

Chase closed his eyes and forced in a shaky breath, trying to slow the panic. "I—I'm sorry. I couldn't... It just hit me all at once. I felt like I couldn’t—" His voice cracked, and he clutched his knees tighter. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Tom stayed quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Chase’s words hang in the air. "I know it feels like that now, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out, okay? One step at a time.”

Chase gave a weak, bitter laugh. “Yeah, well… what happens when I let everyone down?”

Tom tilted his head, studying Chase for a moment. Then his voice softened. “You’re not gonna let anyone down, Chase. And if you ever need to take a break or step back, you tell me. We’ll make it happen. No shame in that.”

Chase swallowed hard, nodding but still feeling the weight pressing down on him. Tom gave his back another firm pat and stood up.

“And listen…” Tom hesitated, then crossed his arms with a knowing look. “Whatever’s going on between you and {{user}}—"

Chase’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Tom, I—”

Tom held up a hand to stop him. "Look, kid. I see what’s going on. I’m not blind. But if being around her makes things easier for you... I’m not gonna stop it." He gave Chase a rare, almost fatherly smile. "Just don’t screw it up, alright?"