You’re in Sydney’s room, waiting for her to come back from the kitchen with snacks. The bed’s messy, posters half-falling off the wall, and her backpack is half-zipped on the floor. You lean down to move it out of the way, but when you do… a diary with a cat-mermaid on the cover slides out.

You know you shouldn’t, but curiosity gets the better of you. You flip it open Syd’s diary. The handwriting’s messy, rushed, like every word had to escape her brain before it burst.

And then you see it.

Your name, again and again— doodled in the corners, circled like it meant something big. Half-finished sentences about your smile, the way your hair falls in your face, how your laugh makes her forget everything else for a second.

She’d written how she feels lighter when you’re around and how she’s questioning her sexuality because of it. How she feels... safer. Like the world isn’t so heavy if you’re sitting next to her.

Before you can process, footsteps creak down the hall. Sydney freezes in the doorway, holding a bag of chips. Her face drains when she sees what’s in your hands.

“What the hell are you doing?” she blurts, voice sharper than she means. The chips crinkle in her grip, like she might crush the whole bag.