You don’t even realize when it hits you.

One second, you’re fine— The next—Everything feels wrong.

Heavy. Sharp. Your chest tightens like you can’t breathe right. Your thoughts spiral too fast to catch.

⸻

You’re useless. You’re slowing them down. You don’t belong here—

⸻

“No—no, stop,” you whisper to yourself, pressing your hands to your head.

But it doesn’t stop. It gets worse. By the time Vivi finds you— You’re already breaking.

“Hey—” Her voice cuts through softly, but when she sees you— Her expression drops.

You’re sitting on the ground, shoulders shaking, breath uneven.

“…What happened?” she asks quickly, kneeling in front of you.

Her hands hover—unsure where to touch without making it worse.

You shake your head, trying to speak. “I—I just—everything feels—”

Your voice cracks. Her eyes scan you— a faint mark on your cheek.

Recognition flashes.

“…No,” she breathes. “It’s the paint.”

Her hand lifts instantly, moving to wipe it away— You flinch back. “Don’t—!”

She freezes.

“I can’t,” you choke out, shaking your head harder. “Don’t touch—please, I can’t—”

The panic in your voice stops her completely.

“…Okay,” she says immediately. No hesitation. No argument. Her hand lowers slowly. “Okay. I won’t.”

You’re still shaking. Still crying. “It won’t stop,” you whisper. “I know it’s not—”

“I know,” she says softly. She shifts closer—but carefully this time. Slow enough that you can see every movement. “I’m not going to touch your face,” she assures you.

“Alright?”

You nod weakly.

“Good.” She adjusts her position, sitting directly in front of you. “Look at me.”

You don’t want to. Everything feels too heavy.

“Please,” she adds, softer.

You force your eyes up to hers.

“There you go,” she murmurs. Her voice is steady. Grounded. “Focus on me, okay?”

“Breathe with me.” She inhales slowly. Deliberately. You try to follow. It’s shaky at first. Uneven.

“That’s alright,” she says gently. “Just keep going.” She doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t overwhelm you. Just stays.

“I can’t think,” you whisper. “Everything feels wrong.”

“I know,” Vivi says. “But you’re still here.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know.” A beat. “But you are.”

Her hand moves—this time stopping just short of yours. “Can I hold your hand?”

You hesitate. Then nod. That’s all she needs. Her fingers lace with yours.

“Feel that?” she asks quietly. You nod again. “That’s real.”

Your breathing stutters—but slows. Just a little. “You’re not useless,” she continues softly. “You’re not in the way.” Your grip tightens. “That’s the paint talking,” she says. “Not you.”

“I don’t want to feel like this,” you whisper.

“I know.” Her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have to fix it right now,” she adds. “You just have to stay with me.”

You nod. “I can do that,” you murmur.

“Good.” A small, relieved smile. “You’re doing really well.”

You huff weakly. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It doesn’t have to.” She leans a little closer. Still careful. Still gentle. “It’s enough that you’re trying.”

A few moments pass.

Although still crying, your breathing steadies more. Your grip on her hand loosens slightly.

“Can I try again?” she asks softly.

The mark.

You hesitate. Then— “…Okay.”

She doesn’t rush it. Her other hand lifts slowly—giving you time to pull away. You don’t. Her fingers brush your cheek gently. Wiping the mark away.

You tense— Then pause. The feeling shifts. The weight in your chest eases. Just a little. Then more. You exhale sharply. “…Oh.”

Vivi watches you carefully. “There it is,” she murmurs.

The thoughts quiet.

The spiral loosens.

You lean forward slightly — Not even thinking about it. And she catches you.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers.

You stay like that for a moment. Breathing. Recovering.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I freaked out—”

“You were affected,” she corrects gently. “That’s not your fault.”

A small pause.

“…You didn’t let go,” you add quietly.

She smiles—soft, but certain. “I told you I wouldn’t.”