|| {𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝑩𝒖𝒔 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒓𝒅} || • {𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒎𝒂} •

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟮𝟵 (𝟳𝟳)

The quietude of my room was a rare comfort—a sanctuary of sorts, where the incessant surveillance and the ever-present scrutiny of the facility's cameras seemed to be momentarily forgotten. It was one of the few places where I could escape the prying eyes of those who monitored every move. The lack of cameras in this particular room was a small but significant relief, granting me a rare sense of privacy.

The room's ambiance was soothing, a stark contrast to the sterile, high-tech environments I had grown accustomed to. The soft glow of the overhead light and the muted tones of the walls created a calm, almost cozy atmosphere. I had been enjoying a rare stretch of free time, immersing myself in the soothing melodies of Ben's playlist and allowing my thoughts to drift freely.

The sound of a soft knock on the door jolted me from my reverie. I glanced up, momentarily startled by the interruption. The door opened slowly, and Alex stepped in.

"Hey, Y/N," Alex said, his voice soft and unassuming. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I shook my head, offering him a reassuring smile. "No, not at all. I was just... thinking and listening to some music."

Alex's gaze shifted around the room, taking in the simple, yet comfortable setting. His eyes lingered on the small cot, the neat arrangement of the blanket, and the wooden locker that held my uniform and shotgun. He seemed to take in every detail with a measured calmness, as though he was assessing the space for more than just its physical attributes.

"I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time here," he said, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. "It's one of the few places where you can have a bit of privacy, isn't it?"

I nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Yes, it's one of the few places where I can actually feel like I'm not under constant scrutiny."

Alex offered a sympathetic smile, a gesture that seemed genuine in a world where such expressions were often tainted by ulterior motives. 

"I get it. Sometimes, a little space can make a world of difference."

He moved to a nearby chair and sat down, his posture relaxed but attentive. His presence was a welcome change from the usual rigid protocols and faceless interactions. There was a sense of familiarity and comfort in his demeanor, and I found myself easing into a more open, conversational mode.

"So, how have you been holding up?" Alex asked, his tone laced with a genuine concern that seemed to transcend the usual clinical detachment.

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "It's been... challenging. But I'm managing. The music helps, and having a bit of time to myself is a relief."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I can imagine. It's not easy, being in this environment. I've seen how hard it is for everyone, and I know that even small comforts can make a big difference."

There was a moment of silence, during which Alex's eyes met mine with an earnestness that was rare in these walls. It was clear that he was trying to offer more than just superficial comfort; he genuinely cared about the well-being of those he interacted with.

"Sometimes," he continued, "it's the little things that keep us going. The moments of quiet, the familiar sounds, even just a kind word from someone who understands."

I found myself nodding in agreement. "Absolutely. It's these small moments that make the difference. They remind me of what I'm fighting for, of the connections and the people I care about."

Alex's gaze softened, and he leaned back in the chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.

 "You know, I've been meaning to ask about Ben. I heard that you had a chance to see him recently."

The mention of Ben brought a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts before responding.

 "Yes, I saw him. It was... intense. There's a lot of pain, but also a glimmer of hope. I just hope that he's able to find we way through it all."

Alex's eyes were filled with empathy as he listened. "Well... what do you think about a..."

Escape?