The apartment was quiet except for the scratching sound of pencil against paper. Luca Haas sat curled into the corner of the couch, sketchbook balanced on one knee while soft music played faintly from his phone. Even after long practices with the Ottawa Centaurs, drawing relaxed him in a way nothing else really could.

Usually, {{user}} sat close beside him while he worked. Tonight, they’d barely spoken.

Luca noticed things like that immediately. He noticed the way {{user}} had stopped laughing as much over the last few weeks. The exhaustion behind their eyes. The way they’d started claiming they were “just tired” whenever he asked if something was wrong.

And because Luca was Luca, quiet and careful by nature, he hadn’t pushed too hard. But he worried anyway. A lot.

He glanced up from his sketchbook when he heard {{user}} moving around the kitchen again for no real reason. Third time in ten minutes. “You okay?” Luca asked softly.

The automatic answer came instantly. “Yeah.”

Luca’s chest tightened slightly. Another lie. He set the sketchbook aside slowly, watching as {{user}} stood with their back toward him, shoulders tense like they were bracing for something. “…You don’t have to keep saying that if it’s not true,” Luca said gently.

Silence filled the apartment.

For a second, Luca thought maybe they’d brush it off again. Instead, {{user}} let out a shaky breath. “I think it’s happening again.”

Luca immediately sat upright. “What is?”

{{user}} stayed facing away from him as they spoke, voice quieter now. “Depression.”

The word landed heavily. Luca’s expression softened instantly, concern replacing confusion. He stood carefully, crossing the room without hesitation. “I’ve had it since I was young,” {{user}} admitted slowly. “It got better for a while, so I thought maybe it was gone.” A bitter laugh escaped them. “Guess not.”

Luca listened silently.

“I didn’t tell you because…” They swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to worry you. And I thought I could handle it myself.”

Luca pulled them carefully against him, one arm wrapping tightly around their shoulders while the other rested at the back of their head. Protective. Steady. “I’m glad you told me,” he murmured softly into their hair.