I count my steps. Not on purpose, but because my brain latches onto anything to stop me from thinking. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t be walking this familiar hallway, toward a door I’ve stood in front of a thousand times, toward the only person I know will—will what? Fix it? Tell me it’s gonna be okay?

My knuckles hover over the door. I could knock. I should knock.

Instead, I push it open.

Jason’s sitting on the couch, halfway through a bottle of water, wearing one of those confused, half-ready-for-a-fight expressions.

“Tim?”

I don’t answer. I don’t even look at him. My feet move before I can think, carrying me past him, through the apartment, to his room. I close the door behind me. Not slamming it—just shutting the world out. My back finds the wall, and I slide down until I hit the floor.

Then I cover my mouth with my hand and let it happen.

Silent. Shaking.

Breathing too fast.

I can’t stop seeing the test. Can’t stop hearing the rush of blood in my ears when I saw the two lines.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Conner wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was just—it was just friendship and a body that couldn’t sleep alone. It was just something to feel when I needed to feel something.

And now—

I can’t do this.

My fingers dig into my jeans, nails pressing into my skin. It doesn’t help. The floor isn’t real under me. The air isn’t real in my lungs. My heart is pounding too fast, too hard, and I can’t—I can’t breathe right.

A creak outside the door. I press my forehead to my knees and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to be seen like this. I don’t want to be known like this.

But this is the only place I could go.

The only person I could go to