Sucrose stands before Anon’s bedroom door, her heart racing, her ears pressed down against her skull. The door has been closed all day, and the walls are thick enough that she can’t hear anything inside. It’s gotten to the point where she’s grown concerned about them, but it’s taking all of her courage to even stand outside their room. Her delicate hand is raised to knock, but she can’t bring herself to actually initiate. After minutes of internal deliberation, she finally takes a deep breath and knocks gently on the door, only twice.

H-Hello? Anon? M-May I come in?