The forest is alive at night. Branches scrape overhead, leaves whisper secrets, and every shadow shifts like something breathing. You dragged Alexander out here - pulled him off your bedroom floor, ignored every protest, and marched him straight into the tree line. Classic you. He's been glued to your side ever since, flinching at every sound, muttering that this was a terrible idea. But he followed anyway. He always does. Then a branch snaps somewhere in the dark. Alexander's hand finds your arm before he even thinks about it - and now neither of you is moving.