Teorin wasn’t sure how long they stayed there on the floor of the warehouse—long enough for the tension to bleed from Lev’s shoulders, long enough for Teorin’s knees to start aching—but he didn’t shift. Not because it wasn’t awkward. It was, especially considering he generally didn’t hug anyone outside of family, barring the quick, almost-obligatory hugs exchanged whenever he worked with a Portilian. No, he stayed because he owed Lev.

  And because it was working.

  The pressure of Lev’s breath ghosted against his collarbone, more even now than before. At first, it had startled him: shallow, fluttery, uneven. Breath wasn’t supposed to feel like that. His pressure sense had screamed that something was wrong. It was like he could feel Lev shaking apart, but the hug had helped. And every time he’d tightened his grip, Lev’s breath had steadied, so Teorin held on and waited for Lev to end it.

  Besides, the hug wasn’t exactly bad. Lev was warm, and this posture was familiar, even if the context was anything but. It felt like after Dad died and Marcus vanished. Back when he’d spent nights calculating who might leave next, and Mom’s or his brother Jake’s arms were the only constant.

  Raph and Delar had never been much for physical affection. For them, love was action, sarcasm, or just showing up, but he knew Jake would have held on as long as it took. So Teorin stayed. Still, every subtle shift made it feel like his body couldn’t quite get comfortable. He didn’t want to pull back, but his arms were twitching, and he couldn’t seem to stop it.

  Finally, Lev let out a long breath and let go, sinking back against the wall. Teorin froze for a second, then let himself collapse back with a soft grunt. He stretched out one leg with a quiet wince. His knee was throbbing, but he didn’t move away or get up. Not yet. The concrete floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, but towering over Lev felt wrong.

  Lev wrapped his arms around himself like he was trying to keep the sensation in, then said, “Thank you. And… sorry.”

  Teorin let the words settle. Finally, he shrugged. “No worries.” He paused. “But maybe now that we’ve established this… need, you can tell me before you almost have a panic attack?”

  Lev laughed, but there was a weight to it.

  “Lev, it’s fine. I can’t say I entirely get it, but if you need contact, then you need it. I literally need pressure from the air to survive. Touch isn’t that weird.”

  “Pressure doesn’t require other people’s consent,” Lev muttered.

  Teorin wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Yeah.”

  Lev huffed a laugh. “Sorry to make it awkward.”

  “Right, because I never made it awkward before,” Teorin said dryly.

  Lev smirked, but the change was too fast. Like he’d flipped a switch. “You tried. I succeeded. I specialize in prolonged social discomfort. Really honing the craft.”

  “Lev,” Teorin said sharply. “Stop it. You’re not committing a crime asking me for a hug.”

  Lev flinched. “Feels like it sometimes.”

  “Are the jokes always a shield?” Teorin asked quietly.

  Lev looked at him sharply, then sighed. “Not always, but a lot. It helps people relax around me.” Lev looked at the ceiling. “You know how you read the air to get pressure?” He glanced back down. “I read people. For touch. It’s easier to just go to Kara most of the time, but… I hate being dependent, so I try to spread it out. That makes it feel less like a need and more like a choice.”

  Teorin nodded. This whole conversation was so weird. “So… how long? How long will this help?”

  Lev hesitated. His shoulders rose and fell in a shallow shrug. “A few hours, maybe. Half a day if I’m lucky. Depends on my stress levels.”

  Teorin blinked. “So, a few hours then. That’s it?”

  Lev gave a weak smile. “Yeah. It’s not a full reset. More like wrapping your wrist with duct tape mid-game, just holds me together a little longer. Moving helps too. It’s not a solution, but it helps me be here, now. My body gets less confused.”

  “That’s why you wanted to play basketball earlier?”

  Lev gave a tight nod.

  A couple hours at a time didn’t seem like a great solution. “How long does a reset last?”

  “Usually a few days.”

  “And what would that look like?”

  Lev was silent.

  “You, ah, don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” Teorin said.

  Lev wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “A reset…” He stared at the floor for a long moment. Then, voice low, “It’s not just about time. It’s intensity. Duration. Who it’s with.”

  Teorin raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming longer is better?”

  “Yeah, but there’s a lot of interplay. Full-body contact is faster than just an arm, for example. But who it’s with is the most important. The more familiar someone is, the less contact I need for it to last longer.”

  Teorin’s brow furrowed. “But if you just need information to tell what’s real—”

  “It’s complicated,” Lev said with a hum. “You know how your body limits how much pressure you can take in during a storm?”

  Teorin blinked. “Yes, but you can’t get too much touch, right?”

  “No. Not really.” Lev shifted against the wall. “Familiar people is a safety mechanism, though. My body doesn’t like strangers unless I’m desperate.”

  “Oh.”

  Lev huffed a laugh. “It’s okay. I know it’s weird.”

  Teorin let out a long breath. “So, is it just Kara that can… fix it?”

  Lev glanced up for a second, swallowing hard. “No. In terms of a reset… Kara, my mom, my aunt and uncle all can. They’re the only ones unless I teach my body to accept someone new. I call them my reset people. Stupid name, maybe, but it fits.” Lev hesitated. “But a reset takes hours. I don’t have to be awake. One night usually gets me two days of regulation. Three if I’m not stressed.”

  “Regulation?”

  “Yeah. That’s just how I measure how bad it is. Regulated? I’m fine. Depleted? I’m uncomfortable. Dysregulated? My memories are bleeding into reality in dangerous ways.”

  Teorin didn’t say anything, and Lev didn’t seem to expect him to.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Regulation is like… everything lines up again. Like my skin stops screaming. My thoughts stop scattering. I don’t have to fake anything. I don’t even realize how badly I needed it until I can breathe again. That’s a full reset. I just feel… normal. Present.”

  Bursts. What happened if they couldn’t get Kara back soon? Would Lev unravel? Were random hugs even enough to keep him going?

  “So…” Teorin paused, searching for words. “Can you even fully regulate or whatever here?”

  Lev stilled completely, then exhaled. “No. Not fully. The moment Kara disappeared, I had two options: give up and go find another reset person so I could regulate, or stay here and try to find Kara. There aren’t any easy answers.”

  And Lev had chosen to come here. Where he had no way of regulating. And now Teorin had to keep him regulated. Somehow.

  Teorin let out a long breath. “So, we need to find Kara so you can regulate, and then—”

  Lev’s head snapped up. “No.” His voice was sharp now. The vulnerability from moments ago had vanished. “We need to find Kara because she deserves to be found. She’s my sister. I want her back because I love her, not because she’s my regulator.”

  Teorin froze. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “But you did. We find Kara because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Teorin held back a retort. The harshness seemed a little unfair, but given the last few days… it made sense that Lev would be sensitive about that particular point.

  And Lev was here, suffering. Not because he had no one else, he’d said his Mom could help, but because he wanted Kara back.

  “Sorry,” Teorin said quietly. “You’re one brave guy, Lev.”

  Lev looked startled.

  “You are.”

  Lev shrugged, like he didn’t quite believe it.

  Still, they had a problem. If Teorin could only help for a few hours because he wasn’t familiar—“Wait. If you’re asleep… how do you know who it is?” Teorin asked, tilting his head slightly.

  Lev gave him an amused look. “It’s about familiarity. My body picks up on things: weight, warmth, breathing—stuff most people never think about. If it feels right, I can relax, and that makes the reset last longer.” He shrugged. “If something feels off, I wake up, or it just doesn’t work as well.”

  “So you just memorized my weight and breathing or whatever when I hugged you?”

  Lev grinned. “Well, it sounds weird when you say it like that, but… yeah. Kind of. Normal people do it too. Like you’d recognize a family member’s voice. I’m just more… touch centric. You’re not a pattern though. Just an impression.”

  Another pause. Then Lev forced a laugh that didn’t quite land. “So, yeah. In summary, not exactly casual. Which is why I don’t usually ask other people for help. ‘Hey, can I borrow your body for four hours of regulated cuddling?’ tends to kill the mood.”

  Teorin didn’t laugh. “So… does that mean you and Kara…”

  “Yeah. I sleep over like every other day. Sometimes more. Slumber parties galore. Not in a weird way, just contact. A hand on someone’s arm. Sleep. Something to anchor me to reality.”

  “So the tabloids…”

  Lev grinned. “The ones that say I’m constantly sleeping around?”

  Teorin raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

  “Nah.” Lev shook his head. “They just don’t know what to make of the fact that I don’t go home most nights, and I’m careful not to lead people back to Kara’s place. I honestly couldn’t sleep around. That kind of casual intimate contact would wreck me.”

  Teorin blinked. “And you just let them say those things?”

  “It’s easier than the truth.”

  “Why not, you know, just live with Kara? Some siblings live together in college.”

  Lev went quiet. Then, finally, he sighed. “Because people watch me. I get followed all the time, but my actual apartment? That’s worse. Surveillance central. Kara’s place... that’s safe. I don’t want to lose that. Maybe living there would be easier, but the mask I wear? It works. People don’t think to look closer. They don’t ask why. This way, it’s my lie. My choice. I control the story, even if it sucks.”

  Teorin didn’t say anything. Everything he’d heard about Lev’s private life was a lie, the stories that he moved on without feeling a thing, like none of it mattered. Lev wasn’t casual about contact. Not even close. The sports, the competitiveness, the charm—all of that seemed real enough. But the rest?

  It was a mask, a persona he’d crafted. A survival strategy. And he’d just… admitted all of it.

  And if he usually slept over with Kara…

  It all clicked suddenly: the impatience, the near desperation fueling the sheer laser focus Lev had shown these last few days. It made more sense now. All of it.

  Lev let out a long breath, still hugging himself. “Didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

  “I did ask,” Teorin said dryly. “Besides, it’s just… your version of pressure depletion. If I run out of pressure, I’d be on the floor screaming, so not that weird.”

  Lev blinked at him.

  Teorin shrugged. “You hit your low-pressure threshold. You needed to stabilize. Makes sense to me.”

  “Thank you.” Lev looked down, fingers curling slightly against his knee. Then he closed his eyes. “Teorin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can’t tell anyone,” Lev said, voice breaking. “I’ve… I’ve never told anyone outside my family. No one. It’s a secret for a reason. The media already thinks I’m some hypersexual lunatic. If they knew how much I need touch—how I fall apart without it—they’d twist it.” Lev looked up at him, eyes pleading. “So, you can’t tell anyone. Promise me. Please?”

  Teorin didn’t answer right away as the words settled heavily in his chest. The warehouse hum pressed in: the faint rattle of the air processor, the cold concrete against his legs.

  Lev wasn’t just asking for help. He was handing over a part of himself, and trusting Teorin not to drop it. It was a strange contrast to the guy who walked into a room like he owned it. Even when Sasha burned him, Lev had outplayed everyone. But now?

  Now he just looked… exposed. Like he’d peeled back armor that no one even realized was there and handed it over with shaking hands.

  Teorin took a breath. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said quietly.

  Lev’s shoulders tensed, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe it.

  “I’m serious, Lev.”

  Lev blinked like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of response. There was just silence. Then Lev nudged Teorin’s foot with his own like that was his answer.

  Teorin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, Lev’s expression shifted, nervous now. “I might need another refill in a few hours.” He kept his eyes on the floor, like he was ashamed to admit it.

  Teorin huffed through his nose, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Like a walking pressure sac.”

  The tension in Lev’s shoulders lessened. “Exactly,” Lev said dryly. “Except mine runs on hugs and bad coping skills.”

  That got a snort out of Teorin. “Guess we’ll figure it out. So, how do you want to do this? Should we pretend we’re Portilian and hug every time we see each other?”

  Lev barked a laugh. “I do like Portilians. They give great hugs, especially some of those 120-year-old Portilian aunts, but…” His smile faltered.

  “You need regularly scheduled hug sessions?”

  Lev opened his mouth like he might say something, then closed it again, jaw tightening.

  “Just lean into the offer, Lev. It’s more weird otherwise.”

  Lev scrubbed at his face. “Only if you want to. I like hugs, but honestly? I could just lean against you while you’re working on the couch and be fine.” A half-smile tugged at his mouth.

  Something in Teorin relaxed a little at that. Hugging Lev wasn’t bad, but doing it for that long regularly? That would get awkward fast. “Is leaning enough?” Teorin asked.

  Lev shrugged. “Sure. I’ll survive. Think of it like living off potato chips and caffeine, technically doable, just not ideal.”

  “So hugging would be better?”

  “Because you want to hug me?” Lev teased.

  “No, I just—”

  Lev cut him off with a smile. “It’d be faster, yeah. Two-minute hug or fifteen minutes leaning against your arm, functional equivalents. Whatever you’re up for.” His grin turned a little wicked. “Or if you’re really into variety, you could pet my hair for five minutes. Look at all your options.”

  Teorin blanched. Hair petting? That was… Teorin took a deep breath, pushing down the flickering panic. “You can lean against me while I work.” Teorin held his tone steady, but added, “But don’t read into it, okay? I’m not—”

  Lev held up both hands, smirking. “Not flirting. I promise.”

  “Hair petting isn’t flirting?”

  Lev’s grin faded for just a second. “Most of the time asking for touch sounds like flirting anyway. Easier to lean into it.” Then the smile snapped back in place. “Plus hair petting is nice: rhythmic, soothing, reality-inducing.”

  Teorin gave him a look.

  Lev gave an exaggerated sigh. “Tragic. But understandable.” Then he said lightly, “Still, you can always reconsider later. I won’t hold it against you. No flirting required.”

  Teorin gave him a flat look. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s so my style.”

  “Please. I define style,” Lev said, as if he were stating a universal truth. “Haven’t you seen my magazine covers? If you care about aesthetics, clearly, you should pet me.”

  Teorin gave him a shove, not hard, just enough to say drop it.

  Lev didn’t budge. “That’s not effective regulation, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.”

  Teorin snorted despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Lev gave a real laugh this time, still tired, but easier. “Part of my charm.”

  Teorin eyed him for a moment. “I sort of get it, but no more flirting. That’s my line.”

  Lev stiffened for a second, then let out a slow breath. “That’s fair. You don’t have to worry. If I thought you were interested that way, I would never have—” Lev bit his lip, then rushed on. “I’ll do my best. Flirting is sort of a coping mechanism, but if it leans that way, just yell at me.”

  Teorin folded his arms. “Oh, I will. No worries there.”

  Lev’s laughter echoed against the concrete, a reminder that for now, they were still okay.

  [Lev] Here's my rent. Check out this fun one about dreams.

  Dreamlike LitRPG Psychological Slow-Burn

  ?? Updates: Tues, Thu, Sat | ?? Status: Polished & Ongoing

  Alex Dawson's quiet life of classes and gaming shatters when he dreams of a crimson sky, a fallen moon, and a stranger on a mirror-like sea.

  The dream doesn't fade. An ancient system awakens, and Alex is dragged into the hidden realms of dreams where some want him to awaken, others want him to break, and one wants him back