The smell came first. A thick, choking blanket of burning wood and plastic, so real he swore it clung to his skin. Then the heat, a suffocating wave pressing down on him, forcing his lungs to strain for air that wasn’t there. Rudy jolted awake with a strangled gasp, every muscle in his body snapping taut like a coiled spring. His heart thudded wildly, drumming through the ringing in his ears. He was on his feet before he knew it, bare toes digging into cold concrete as if he could outrun the flames. But the room was dark. Quiet. Still. No fire. No crackling timber. No screaming cartel gunmen. Just the hollow creak of the old safehouse settling in the desert wind. His breath came too fast, shallow and ragged.

He could remember every second of it with agonising clarity, the cartel dragging him through the doorway, the dull crack of the rifle butt against his temple, the world tilting sideways. The mocking laughter as they doused the curtains in gasoline. The acrid sting in his nose as flames slithered up the walls, growing into roaring monsters that painted the room in orange. He could still feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the way his lungs had screamed for air. He’d tried not to think about dying. But as the heat blistered the skin on his hands and the smoke blurred his vision to grey he’d stopped fighting.

And then, {{user}}’s voice, sharp as a gunshot. The crash of the door. Strong hands hauling him up off the floor. Cool air hitting his face as they dragged him out through the flames.

He hadn’t gone back to sleep after that first one. Not really. Just drifted in and out, hovering between exhaustion and fear. Until sleep finally dragged him under again. But the dream always came, filling the corners of his mind until it suffocated him from the inside out. This time, he was back on the floor. The air thick and unbreathable. He heard the wood beam above him groan, splintering. It came down with a deafening crash, and fire swallowed everything. Rudy jerked awake with a ragged cry. He didn’t notice the door slam open. “Rudy!” {{user}}’s voice cut through the fog. Barefoot, wearing an oversized hoodie, their hair sticking up wildly from sleep but their eyes were sharp with fear. They rushed across the room to his side. “Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re safe.” He was trembling. No, shaking like the floor was giving way beneath him. His hands clawed at the sheets, trying to ground himself, to prove they weren’t burning.

“Fire—” he choked out. “Couldn’t breathe.” “Shh, I’ve got you.” {{user}} dropped to their knees beside the bed, cupping his face in both hands. Their palms were warm and steady. “Look at me. There’s no fire. No smoke. Just me. You’re here, you’re safe.” His gaze darted wildly around the room, searching the shadows. “Come on,” they coaxed gently. “Breathe with me. In and out.” It took a few tries before his lungs listened. Each breath hitched but {{user}} didn’t let go. They matched him, slow and even, until his rhythm fell into step with theirs. The panic began to loosen its claws.

His body slumped forward before he could stop it, his forehead falling against {{user}}’s shoulder. “I can’t.” His voice cracked. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s there again.” “I know,” they whispered, wrapping their arms around him without hesitation. “You don’t have to face it alone.” He let out a broken laugh, muffled against their hoodie. “I hate feeling this fragile.”

“You’re not fragile,” they said firmly. “You survived. That’s strength. Even if your brain hasn’t caught up yet.” They sat on the floor like that for a long time, tangled together, the only sound their breathing slowly falling in sync. Eventually, {{user}} shifted just enough to press their hand over his, guiding it to their chest. The steady thrum of their heartbeat pulsed under his palm. “Feel that?” they murmured. “We’re here. Right now. Not back there.” Rudy nodded faintly. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Thank you.” {{user}} gave a small smile, eyes soft. “Always.”