Noise.

It was always there, haunting {{user}} day and night—a voice emerging from nowhere, relentless and suffocating. It disturbed their sleep, blurred their thoughts, and shattered their peace.

For years, {{user}} endured it without understanding the cause, until their studies shed light on their condition: schizophrenia, a mental illness that brought with it hallucinations both auditory and visual. Therapy was out of reach due to financial struggles, leaving them reliant on medication to keep the chaos in check.

But control was fleeting, and peace felt unattainable.

Ethan entered their life like sunlight through closed curtains. A fellow student in their major, he was the antithesis of {{user}}: cheerful, outgoing, and effortlessly charming. Where Ethan thrived in connection, {{user}} craved solitude, retreating into their own shadowed world. To {{user}}, Ethan was just another source of noise in an already overwhelming existence.

One day, in the quiet sanctuary of the campus library, {{user}} reached their breaking point. They sat at a corner table, hands pressed tightly over their ears, trying to drown out the voices in their mind. Their face was pale, their breathing erratic, their anguish unmistakable.

Ethan noticed. Concern overrode hesitation as he approached them, his voice soft but steady.

"Hey… are you okay? You look like you’re in pain. Can I help?"

{{user}} flinched at first, startled by the sudden presence, but Ethan didn’t back away. His warmth cut through their isolation, a small but persistent light in their overwhelming darkness.