is this common?
Chance’s POV
Chance felt it before he saw it—something was off.
Guest had always been good at keeping his cards close to his chest, but Chance had spent enough time watching him to know when something wasn’t right. And today, something wasn’t right.
From the second Guest stepped out of his room, Chance noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his movements were just a little too slow, like he was dragging himself forward instead of walking. Then there was the food.
Guest barely looked at it before sliding his plate over to Schedletsky. Not even a second of hesitation.
It wasn’t the first time.
The others didn’t seem to notice. Elliot made a comment here and there, but everyone else was too wrapped up in their usual routines, two time and Shedletsky trying to convince Builderman and noob to join some cult of some sort,C00lkidd constantly bugging his tired father, sometimes also guest I guess...
Chance, though—Chance always paid attention.
So, he watched.
Watched the way Guest leaned against the wall, his fingers twitching like he was trying to ground himself. Watched the way his breathing hitched, just for a second, before he shook it off like it was nothing.
And then—
He knew it was coming the moment Guest's body swayed.
One second, Guest was standing. The next, his face went slack, his legs buckled—
And then he was falling.
Chance surged forward before he even thought about it.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Guest hit the floor with a dull thud, limbs crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. For a brief, sickening second, no one reacted. The conversations continued, laughter still filling the cabin, and Chance had this twisted, awful thought—
What if this wasn’t real? What if he was imagining this, overreacting, reading too much into something that wasn’t there?
But then Elliot was moving, too, dropping to his knees beside Guest. The sound of conversation started to taper off, replaced by quiet concern.
Chance clenched his fists.
He knew what this was. The late nights. The skipped meals. The way Guest pushed himself too hard, refused to slow down, refused to need anything from anyone.
And now? Now it had finally caught up to him.
“Guest?” Elliot's voice was firm, but not panicked. “Come on, man, wake up.”
Nothing.
Chance swallowed hard, feeling something heavy settle in his chest.
Guest wasn’t moving. His breathing was shallow, his face pale. Too pale. For all his sharp edges and sharp words, Guest was always alive—always moving, always doing something. Seeing him like this, still and silent, was wrong in a way Chance didn’t have words for.
The others had started to notice now.
Schedletsky stood from his chair, watching with an unreadable expression. 007N7 had shifted, his usual tired smile replaced with something more serious. C00lkidd had gone quiet, which was insanely rare for a child like him..
Chance barely registered any of it.
He reached out before he could stop himself, pressing two fingers to the side of Guest’s neck. His pulse was there—weak, but there.
Still, that relief was short-lived.
Because Guest wasn’t waking up.
- “Shit,” Chance muttered under his breath, glancing at Elliot. “What do we—?”
“Give him a second,” Elliot said, his voice calmer than Chance felt as he shoved a tiny peice of his 'magical pizza' into guest's mouth “If he’s just exhausted, he’ll come to soon..plus, this will heal him a bit..”
That wasn’t good enough.
Chance hated waiting. Hated feeling helpless. But for once, there was nothing he could do except sit there and watch.
Long, agonizing seconds passed.
And then—
Guest groaned. His fingers twitched slightly against the floor.
Chance exhaled, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding finally easing—just a little.
Elliot was the first to speak.
“Hey.” His voice was steady but softer now. “You with us?”
Guest blinked up at them, confusion flickering across his face before something else settled in.
Embarrassment.
Chance recognized the look instantly.
And just like that, the walls were back up.
- "Yeah... I got that," Guest muttered, his voice scratchy.
Chance scoffed, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat was still a little too fast
- "You look like shit."
Guest rolled his eyes, tried to sit up—
And immediately wobbled, falling back against the floor with a frustrated huff.
- "Appreciate the honesty," he grumbled.
Chance just stared at him.
He could pretend all he wanted, but that didn't change the fact that he had just collapsed. That he had been running himself into the ground, pretending like he was fine, pretending like this wasn't going to happen eventually.
And, yeah. Maybe that pissed Chance off a little.
- "You don’t just faint for ‘nothing,’” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on with you?”
Guest met his gaze, and for a second, something flashed there—something raw, something vulnerable.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
- “I’m fine.”
Bullshit.
- "You've been running on empty for weeks,” Chance shot back. “You think that's fine?"
Guest bristled.
- "I can handle it."
Chance narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? And look where that’s gotten you."
Silence.
And then, quieter—more hesitant than before—Guest muttered, “Why do you care?”
It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t sharp. It was just… tired.
And that was what finally made Chance sigh.
- “Because I do care.” The words felt too heavy in his mouth, too real. But it was the truth, and Chance wasn’t about to take it back. “I’m not going to pretend everything is fine when it’s not. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and I’m worried about you.”
Guest looked at him like he didn’t know how to process that. Like the idea of someone caring was foreign to him.
That realization hurt more than Chance expected it to.
He let the silence stretch between them. He wasn’t going to push, wasn’t going to force Guest to admit anything he wasn’t ready for. But he was going to be here, whether Guest liked it or not.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Guest sighed.
- “…Fine.”
Chance smirked.
- “Good.”
He extended a hand, and after a brief hesitation, Guest took it. His grip was weak—more unsteady than Chance had ever felt it—but he still held on.
That was enough.
That was a start.
- "Now," Chance said, steadying Guest as he stood. "Let's get you some damn food before you pass out again."
A few says later
Chance didn’t need to be told when Guest wasn’t doing great—he felt it. It was like some invisible thread connecting them, tugging at him when things got bad.
And lately, things had been bad.
The exhaustion hadn’t just disappeared after that collapse. If anything, it had gotten worse. Guest was quieter, more distant. He still pretended everything was fine, but the cracks were showing. And the panic attacks?
They were getting worse, too.
The first one had been the night after the collapse.
Chance had been lying in bed, halfway between awake and asleep, when he heard it—ragged breathing, too sharp, too fast. It wasn’t coming from his own room.
He had gotten up without thinking.
Guest’s door hadn’t even been locked. That in itself was concerning—Guest was always careful about that. Chance had stepped inside quietly, expecting to find him asleep.
Instead, he found him sitting on the edge of his bed, gripping his hair like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His breaths came in quick, uneven gasps, and even in the dark, Chance could see the tension in his shoulders.
- “Guest?”
Guest flinched violently, snapping his head toward Chance. His eyes were too wide, too wild.
-“Get out.” His voice was hoarse, strained.
Chance didn’t move.
- “Not happening.”
Guest swallowed hard, shutting his eyes. His whole body was shaking.
Chance took a careful step forward, keeping his voice steady.
-“You’re having a panic attack.”
Guest let out a sharp, bitter laugh that sounded more like a choked breath.
- “No shit.”
Chance hesitated for only a second before he sat down beside him. Not too close. Just enough that Guest knew he wasn’t alone.
- “Breathe,” Chance said. “In for four, hold for four, out for four.”
Guest didn’t respond. Didn’t move.
So Chance did it himself. Loud enough that Guest could hear. He breathed in slowly. Held it. Then exhaled.
Again.
Again.
And then, finally—
Guest’s breathing stuttered, then hesitantly followed the rhythm.
It took a while.
But eventually, his shoulders slumped. The shaking eased. His head tipped forward, resting against his knees.
Chance didn’t say anything. He just sat there.
And maybe that was what Guest needed.
Because after a long, heavy silence, Guest muttered
- “…Thanks.”
It was quiet. Almost like he hated saying it.
Chance just shrugged.
-“Yeah,” he said.
And that was that.
It wasn’t the last time.
It happened again the next night. And the night after that.
Chance stopped waiting for Guest to ask for help—because he never would. Instead, he started listening for it. The too-quick breathing. The sound of movement in the dead of night.
And when he heard it, he showed up.
Sometimes, Guest would fight him on it, still clinging to that stupid idea that he had to handle everything on his own.
Other times, he didn’t say anything at all.
And then, one night—Guest showed up at Chance’s door instead.
That was the night it changed.
It had been late. Too late for Chance to still be awake, but something had been keeping him from fully falling asleep.
A gut feeling.
So when the soft knock came, he wasn’t surprised.
He got up, opened the door—
And there was Guest, standing in the hallway, arms crossed, looking pissed off at himself.
Chance blinked
- “Uh. You good?”
Guest exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, muttered—
-“Shut up.”
Chance smirked a little. He stepped back, holding the door open.
Guest hesitated for only a second before stepping inside.
The silence stretched as Chance climbed back into bed, watching as Guest lingered awkwardly near the edge of the room.
Chance raised an eyebrow.
-“You gonna just stand there all night, or—?”
Guest scowled.
- “You know why I’m here.”
- “Do I?” Chance tilted his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Guest shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, with an irritated sigh, he ran a hand down his face and muttered something under his breath.
Chance grinned.
-“What was that?”
- “Move over,” Guest snapped.
Chance definitely smirked at that. But he didn’t say anything. Just shifted to make room.
Guest climbed in stiffly, as if hating every second of it—but also, notleaving.
They didn’t touch.
They never did.
But the space between them wasn’t as wide as it could’ve been.
Guest layed on his side, facing away. He was still tense, but not as tense as before.
Chance layed back, staring at the ceiling.
After a long pause, he spoke.
-“This doesn’t have to be a big deal, you know.”
Guest didn’t respond.
Chance sighed.
-“If you need this, then you need it. No one’s gonna judge you for it.”
Still nothing.
But then, after a long pause—
-“…You’re annoying.”
Chance grinned.
- “Yeah, yeah.”
Silence settled between them.
And then—
Guest’s breathing evened out.
He fell asleep.
Chance sighed and slightly curled up against guest
He Just let it happen.
And that was the night it became a habit.
It wasn’t every night.
But it was most nights.
Guest would show up—sometimes looking irritated, sometimes looking exhausted, sometimes saying nothing at all.
And Chance would just move over.
Neither of them ever talked about it.
And maybe they didn’t need to.
Because no matter how much Guest acted like he didn’t need anyone, he still kept showing up.
And no matter how much Chance acted like it was nothing—
He still kept making space.