[ Breathe. In-out-in-out.

If only his body would listen, having enough trouble with it that his vision swims, his brain sloshing from one end of his skull to the other alongside it. His stomach is twisting in on itself at the same time, a dreadful ouroboros being formed from his intestines until he forces himself to switch focus. To concentrate on the heat of Sebek's fingers entwined with his own, melting through layers upon layers of skin.

Soft, protective. Loosening a memory of both of them young and terrified of his father's Halloween disguises, gripping each other for dear life as they shrieked at the sight of him. One of the few things that had ever brought him solace was that grip. ]

He won't graduate like he wanted to ...or take his internship year...and Lord Malleus was– anguished by this.

[ Like how he himself feels now. ]

I see.

[ No, he doesn't. His knees want to snap in half, but he can't let himself. He's the older one here, and he'll only make an already terrible situation worse. ]

The Lord Malleus here with us doesn't know this yet.