You and Drew had been best friends since childhood. From scraped knees on summer sidewalks to secrets whispered under starry skies, your bond had only grown stronger over the years. You were there when everything started to fall apart for him—when his mother died in that tragic accident, when his father, blinded by grief and rage, accused Drew of the unthinkable. You were there with him when he ran away, and the only one who didn't flinch when he changed. When he turned into a werelord, you didn't run. You stood by him, like you always had. Like you always would.

You had been there for everything—the grief, the fear, the transformations. And you knew you'd be there for whatever came next. Because that's who you were. Fearless. Death didn't shake you. Heights never made you dizzy. Chickens—people laughed, but even those squawking little demons didn't faze you. Nothing could scare you.

Well... almost nothing.

Thunderstorms were your weakness. The deep, echoing booms that cracked through the sky felt like the earth itself was splitting open. The sound of thunder hit you like an explosion, reverberating in your bones, sending shivers down your spine and fear into your chest.

That's why, every time the sky darkened and the storm rolled in, Drew would hold you. Just like now. His arms were wrapped around you tightly, his presence warm and grounding. One of his hands gently moved up and down your back in slow, comforting strokes, like he was tracing invisible lines of safety into your skin. You buried your face into his chest, trying to block out the noise of the world outside.

"Shhhhh, everything will be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a calm anchor in the chaos.

And somehow, with him, it always was