Alexander didn't rush in.
He never did.
He stood at the doorway for a moment, observing.
Skylar was by the mirror now—breathing uneven, shoulders tense, hands slightly shaking like he was trying to hold himself together through force alone.
Alexander had seen panic before.
Businessmen losing deals. Men losing money. People losing control.
But this… wasn't that.
This was personal.
Unstable.
Raw.
"Think, Skylar… THINK!"
The voice echoed in the room.
Loud. Fractured.
And then silence followed it like a crash.
Alexander stepped inside.
Slow.
Measured.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Skylar turned immediately.
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Like a cornered animal trying to decide whether to fight or run.
"What do you want now?" Skylar asked again, but it wasn't steady anymore.
It was breaking.
Alexander didn't answer right away.
He simply looked at him.
Really looked.
Not with confusion.
With control.
"You're panicking," Alexander said calmly.
That was all.
No judgment.
No emotion.
Just fact.
And somehow, that made Skylar more frustrated.
"Of course I'm panicking!" Skylar snapped, stepping back. "I don't remember anything properly— I wake up in your house and you just stand there like— like nothing happened!"
Alexander didn't move.
Didn't react to the raised voice.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Like noise couldn't touch him.
"You're trying to force your memory," Alexander said.
Skylar laughed bitterly.
"I need to know what happened!"
Alexander tilted his head slightly.
A small, almost invisible pause.
Then—
"You already know enough."
That stopped Skylar.
Not because it helped.
Because it didn't.
Skylar shook his head.
"No… I don't. I don't know anything. I don't even know how I got here properly— I don't know you, I don't—"
His voice cracked mid-sentence.
He hated that it did.
Alexander watched him fall apart quietly.
Not interrupting.
Not stepping in.
Just observing the way emotion built, peaked, and threatened to spill over.
Like he was studying something complex.
Something unpredictable.
"You're afraid of what you don't remember," Alexander said finally.
Skylar froze.
That was too accurate.
Too calm.
Too close.
"I'm afraid of you," Skylar corrected immediately.
A beat of silence.
Then Alexander nodded once.
Not offended.
Not surprised.
Just acknowledging it.
"Fair," he said simply.
That single word disarmed Skylar more than anger ever could have.
Because there was no denial in it.
No defense.
Just acceptance.
Skylar stared at him, confused by that reaction.
"You're not even going to argue?"
"No," Alexander replied.
Another pause.
Then, quieter:
"Fear is usually based on missing information."
That landed heavier than it should have.
Skylar swallowed.
His breathing slowed slightly—but only because his body was too exhausted to stay in panic mode forever.
"You're not helping," he muttered.
Alexander stepped further into the room now.
Not close enough to trap him.
But close enough to be present.
"I'm not trying to," he said.
That honesty made Skylar pause again.
For the first time, Alexander's gaze shifted—not softer, but slightly more focused.
"I told you to stay because you were unstable," he said. "Not because I intend to keep you here."
Skylar's eyes narrowed.
"Then why does it feel like I can't leave?"
Silence.
Longer this time.
Alexander didn't answer immediately.
And for the first time, something unreadable passed through his expression.
Not emotion.
Not guilt.
Something quieter.
Awareness.
Finally, he said:
"Because you're still trying to understand something you don't remember clearly."
Skylar's chest tightened again.
"And when I do?"
Alexander held his gaze.
Calm as ever.
"Then you'll decide what kind of truth you want to live with."
That line hung in the room longer than anything else.
Skylar didn't respond.
Because for the first time since waking up…
He wasn't sure if the truth would free him.
Or trap him even more.
And Alexander?
He simply watched.
As if waiting for the moment Skylar finally stopped running from what already happened.