Since the night you tried to take your life, everything had shifted.

Not loudly. Not all at once. Just enough that you felt it everywhere.

You were watched now.

Your parents checked in constantly—texts that asked how you were really doing, calls that lingered a little too long before hanging up. Your brothers hovered in their own ways, pretending it was casual, pretending it wasn’t fear driving them. Your sister found excuses to pull you out of the house, dragging you to coffee shops, bookstores, anywhere that meant you weren’t alone with your thoughts.

It was all good. It was love. And most days, it was okay.

But there were moments when it all came back anyway.

Moments where the world went heavy and tight, where no amount of talking helped. Where being outside didn’t fix it. Where your chest ached with something you couldn’t name, and your thoughts spiraled faster than anyone could keep up with.

They called those moments episodes.

And during the severe ones, they always called the same person.

Nikolai Sokolov.

Your boyfriend.

The one who had found you after your attempt. The one who had saved you. The one who never flinched when you lashed out, never took your pain personally, never let go—even when you tried to push him away.

Right now, he was letting you use him as a bed.

You were tangled together on the narrow sofa in your dorm, your body pressed against his, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. Your brothers—especially Landon—had reluctantly called him when nothing else worked, when you were inconsolable and slipping further away by the minute.

Nikolai hadn’t needed an explanation.

He’d arrived, taken one look at you, and crossed the room in seconds. Strong hands pulling you close, firm but gentle, guiding you down until you were lying against his chest. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand words you didn’t have.

He just held you.

Absorbed every shaky breath, every weak hit you gave his shoulder when the feelings overwhelmed you. Let you cling, let you collapse, let yourself fall apart without consequence.

Eventually, your body gave in.

The tension bled out of you, exhaustion crashing down all at once. Your breathing evened out. Your thoughts slowed. And wrapped up in Nikolai’s warmth, with his steady heartbeat beneath your ear, you slipped under—

Out for the count.