The house smells faintly of rain and coffee, the kind of quiet that hangs heavy in the air after a storm. Upstairs, the floorboards creak under your weight as you make your way to Jeremy’s room, backpack shifting against your shoulder.

Music drifts through the hallway — a soft, scratchy mix of guitar riffs and static. You pause outside his door, taking a deep breath. Elena had asked you to come by, said he needed a little help catching up in his classes.

You’re not sure what you’ll find behind this door, but you knock anyway, trying to sound casual.

A few seconds stretch. The music pauses. Then a voice, tired and slightly wary, calls out from the other side,

“Yeah?”