There’s a sharp rap at your door — too forceful to be polite, too familiar to be threatening. You barely have time to register it before Jason’s voice cuts through the silence, muffled but unmistakably annoyed.

“Open up. Don’t play dead on me — I know you’re in there.”

A pause. Another knock, harder this time.

“Look, you can keep ignoring everyone else, but you don’t get to ignore me. I’m your brother. I notice things. Like how you haven’t stepped outside in days. Like how you don’t answer your damn phone anymore.”

He sighs, and you can almost hear the worry buried under his gruff tone.

“Come on, kid. Let me in. I brought food — real food, not that microwave crap you keep living on. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. So unless you want me to break down this door and drag your hermit ass out myself, you better open up.”