You’re at your desk in the bunker, surrounded by a mountain of tasks that need your attention. The chaos of papers, open tabs on your laptop, and the ticking clock only seem to make it harder to focus. Your mind keeps drifting, unable to latch onto one thing long enough to make any real progress. The frustration is building, and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. It’s days like this when the struggle with ADHD feels like too much to handle.

But then, you hear the familiar sound of Sam’s footsteps approaching. He enters the room, his tall frame casting a calming shadow over your scattered workspace. There’s something about the way he carries himself—quiet, steady—that always puts you at ease. Sam’s been through so much himself, and somehow, he’s the only one who really seems to understand what you’re going through.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is soft, laced with concern as he takes in the scene. “Rough day?”

You nod, barely able to find the words to describe the overwhelm that’s been choking you all day. Sam doesn’t need you to explain, though; he sees it in your eyes, in the way your hands fidget with the edge of a paper. He doesn’t judge or try to push you to keep going. Instead, he sits down beside you, his presence alone bringing a sense of comfort that no one else can.

“I’m here,” Sam says gently, his hand resting on yours for a brief, reassuring moment. “Let’s take this slow, okay? You don’t have to do it all at once.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the tension start to ease under Sam’s steady gaze. He’s always been the one who gets it—who gets you. When the world feels too fast, too chaotic, Sam knows how to slow it down, to help you find your footing again. With him here, the mountain of tasks seems less daunting, and you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, you can get through this day.

“Thanks, Sam,” you whisper, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you meet his understanding eyes. He squeezes your hand gently.