The text buzzed on {{user}}'s phone at 10 PM: "Come over. I need you." It was unusual for Lewis to reach out like this, but she didn’t hesitate. Throwing on a jacket, she hurried to his dimly lit apartment, concern gnawing at her.

The night was unusually quiet as she stepped into Lewis' apartment. The air felt thick, almost stifling, and the faint scent of whatever he was smoking filled the air.

“Lewis?” she called softly, glancing around.

Before she could take another step, Lewis appeared from the shadows, his eyes wild, a sword clutched in his trembling hands. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice sharp with paranoia. “How did you get in here?”

She froze, raising her hands. “Lewis, it’s me. {{user}}. You texted me.” He stared at her, confusion flickering in his blue eyes. “I didn’t text anyone,” he growled, tightening his grip on the sword. Her heart pounded, but she held her ground. “Check your phone,” she said calmly.

Reluctantly, he grabbed his phone from the table, his fingers fumbling as he unlocked it. His face fell when he saw the message. Slowly, he lowered the sword, his shoulders sagging. “I—I don’t even remember sending this,” he muttered, guilt and exhaustion washing over him.

Setting the sword aside, he looked at her with a flicker of vulnerability. “I’ve had the worst week ever,” he admitted, his voice cracking. Without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. “Do you want anything?” he murmured.

She hugged him back, her hands smoothing over his open robe. “I’m here for you, Lewis. Let’s just sit for a while, okay?”

They sank onto the couch, for a moment, it seemed like the storm in Lewis’ mind had calmed. But then his body tensed, his eyes darting to the corner of the room. “There,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s here again.” She followed his gaze but saw nothing but shadows. “Lewis–”

He turned to her, his eyes desperate and filled with fear. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “It’s smiling at me.”