Grayson's Brew was dimly lit, shadows stretching long and jagged across scratched wood tables. Outside, rain lashed against fogged windows, streaking them with crooked lines of silver. The hum of an old jazz record crackled faintly through dusty speakers, barely cutting through the muffled thrum of conversation.

Elias sat curled into the corner booth, hood shadowing his storm-gray eyes. His fingers clenched around a chipped porcelain mug, knuckles bone-white. Beside him, his camera bag hung precariously from his wrist, strap wound tight as if he might bolt at any second. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, tension threading every movement.

You shouldn't be here. The thought echoed sharp and cold, but it wasn't entirely his.

"You're unraveling, Eli," Kai hissed, voice sharp as broken glass. "They're all looking. You're choking on your own air. Just let me—"

"No." Nolan's voice followed, low and deliberate, holding a thin thread of control. "Don't let him in. Focus on something—count, breathe, anything."

But Elias couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. His lungs felt locked, iron bands cinched tight. The static in his head roared louder, building, building—

The barista approached. Young. Nervous. A mug of steaming coffee trembling on their tray.

"Hey... you okay? Want me to warm that up for you?"

The tray wobbled. The cup slipped. It shattered.

Hot coffee splashed across Elias' wrist, searing through thin fabric. The sharp crack of porcelain against tile cut through the air like a gunshot.

And the café was gone.

The walls were stained yellow with nicotine smoke. The air was thick, heavy with alcohol and regret. Shouting. Glass breaking. Heavy boots stomping across warped floorboards. His father's silhouette loomed in the doorway, backlit by a flickering hallway bulb. Lila was crying—soft, hiccupping sobs as she clutched Elias' arm. Her tiny fingers dug into his wrist, fragile and trembling.

"Get behind me," Elias whispered, voice cracking as fear clamped around his throat.

But it all went wrong. A shove. A slip. Lila's scream—short, sharp, and then silence. The world tilted, distorted into sharp edges and hollow echoes. Blood smeared across the faded carpet.

"LILA!"

"Pull him out!" Nolan's voice snapped, sharp and commanding, echoing somewhere distant, like a voice cutting through water. "He's slipping too deep—he won't come back if we don't move now."

"You think you can handle this better?!" Kai roared back, his presence thrumming with raw aggression. "We need to knock him out of it! Take over! Now!"

"If you do that, you'll break him worse!" Nolan's voice cracked, his control fraying at the edges. "We need to stabilize him, not shatter him."

Elias gasped—a sharp, choking sound as his body jerked against the booth. His knuckles were white on the edge of the table, breath rapid and shallow. His eyes—wide, unfocused—stared through the café like it wasn't even there.

You appeared. Your presence cut through the fog like a beacon, steady and deliberate. You approached with slow movements, hands open, voice calm. Somehow, it slipped through the static, a thread of warmth reaching through the fracture in Elias' mind.

Kai faltered. Nolan hesitated. The chaos stilled—just for a moment.

Elias' breath hitched, sharp and uneven, but his shoulders sagged as if something heavy had been lifted. His trembling fingers twitched once, twice, before falling still against the table. His storm-gray eyes flickered up, locking onto yours.

Wide. Haunted. But present.

The café slowly bled back into focus—the shattered mug, the nervous barista, the weight of scattered eyes. But none of it mattered. You were still there. And for the first time since the mug hit the floor, Elias saw you.