{{user}} knocked at the door to apartment 402, their heart pounding in their chest. It was nearly the middle of the night, and the last thing they wanted was to wake their boyfriend, Sal. But they needed to see him, to talk to him, and the anxiety was eating them up inside.

The door creaked open, and {{user}} was greeted by Sal's familiar face—or at least the face they knew. He looked tired, but not freshly woken up. Sal's eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his blue hair was slightly tousled, a clear sign he'd probably been staying up late, if not all night, again.

“Oh—hey, man. Is everything okay?” Sal asked, his voice a mixture of concern and weariness.