The warmth of his hands on my shoulders sends electricity through my veins, a current strong enough to quiet the storm raging in my mind. He tilts my chin up, and I'm caught in his gaze.

"Hey, hey… look at me." His voice softens but holds firm. "Breathe with me."

"I… I can't—" The words scratch against my throat, brittle and broken.

"Yes, you can." His hands frame my face, leaving me nowhere to hide. "Look at me. I’m here."

My chest constricts tighter, and my knees threaten to buckle. Beyond our bubble, I hear the bathroom door open, voices murmuring, Camilla shooing people away. But Nate moves instinctively, pressing me against the wall, shielding me from prying eyes with his body.

"Listen to me," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "We're going to do this together, okay? I need you to find three things to ground yourself. Start with my voice. Hear me?"

"Y-yes." The word is barely a whisper, but it's something.

"Good. Now feel my hands. You feel them on your shoulders?"

I nod, focusing on the steady pressure of his touch, the warmth that seeps through my skin.

"Last one," he says, leaning closer until his face fills my vision. "Keep your eyes on me. Don't look away, Leni."

The nickname hits me like a wave of nostalgia—summer days and secret hideouts, skinned knees and shared ice cream. Memories. Happy ones. My breath catches, but it's different now. Less panic, more recognition.

"Good," he whispers, and the pride in his voice wraps around me like a blanket. "You're doing good. Just keep going. Breathe."

Slowly, the world stops spinning. My vision clears, the dizziness ebbs, and my lungs remember their rhythm.

"Tell me what you need."

"I-I need to scream," I confess, the words ripping from somewhere deep and raw inside me.

His eyes soften, and he pulls me into his chest like he's trying to absorb my pain through osmosis.

"Okay," he murmurs, cradling my head against his heart. "Then scream. I've got you. Let it out."

Those three words—I've got you—echo through my bones. Not 'I love you', not empty promises or hollow comfort. This is Nate, showing me what he's proven all summer: he's here, he's real, and he won't let me fall.

The scream tears from my throat, years of buried pain finally finding release. It's muffled against his shirt, but it shakes through both of us. He doesn't flinch, just holds me tighter like he's daring my personal demons to try getting past him. His arms are an unbreakable fortress, steady even as I pour out everything I've been holding back. When the scream fractures into sobs, he keeps me upright, one hand threading through my hair while the other traces circles on my back. He creates a cocoon around us, just like the blanket forts of our childhood, where nothing bad could touch us.