AGAIN TOMORROW .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
summary: exam stress pushes her deeper into old habits she thought she’d outrun but embry feels every bit of her pain, and he’s not about to let her face it alone.
pairing: embry call x reader
word count: 1,3k
warnings: mentions of ed, trigger warning, angst and fluff, embry comforting reader, sensitive topics, exam stress, short writing, comfort writing.
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it started with the clock ticking.
that relentless, mechanical rhythm. mocking you. reminding you that time was slipping through your fingers while your brain refused to cooperate.
textbooks and notebooks surrounded you in a chaotic sprawl across the bedroom floor, their pages smudged with highlighter and anxiety. your laptop screen glared white at you, a half-written paragraph blinking like a metronome. you couldn’t concentrate, the words blurred into nonsense. everything felt too loud and too quiet at once.
you hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of toast that morning. and maybe a sip of coffee, though it had long gone cold beside you now, untouched for hours. your stomach ached, but the thought of food made your chest twist. you didn’t feel hungry. just hollow. as if the feeling had been replaced with something else, something sharper. something crueler.
and beneath the gnawing stress of exam season was that voice. the one that lived in your head, soft but merciless:
“you didn’t study enough today. you didn’t get through all the chapters you planned. you’re wasting time. you don’t deserve to eat yet.”
you hated that voice. but it felt like the only one telling the truth.
so, when your phone buzzed with a message from embry saying “can i come over?”, you didn’t answer. you didn’t want him to see you like this. not when your eyes were dull and tired, your hair unwashed, your hoodie hanging loose on shoulders that had become sharper, thinner.
you told yourself he’d be better off not seeing this version of you.
but you forgot one thing.
he could feel you. through the imprint. even when you shut him out, even when you locked your doors and buried yourself under books and guilt, he still knew. maybe not everything, not the details, but the ache, the panic, the shame. it reached him like a fog wrapping around his chest.
so when the knock came soft, almost hesitant, you weren’t surprised. not really.
you stayed still, hoping silence would make him leave.
but then the doorknob turned slowly, and his voice followed. warm. low. careful.
“baby?” a pause. “i brought you tea.”
he stepped inside, and you flinched. not from fear. from shame.
you were sitting on the floor, hunched over your books, surrounded by notes that hadn’t made sense in hours. your limbs felt too heavy to move.
embry crossed the room slowly. no frustration. no lecture. just a worried softness in his face that nearly broke you.
he set the mug down beside you. chamomile, you could smell it, and then crouched beside you.
you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t. if you did, he’d see everything. the guilt, the fear, the way your mind had twisted in on itself like a trap.
“talk to me, baby” he said gently, his voice like flannel and dusk. “i’ve been feeling you all day. you’re… hurting.”
your throat closed up. you wanted to apologize. wanted to say i’m sorry i’m so much, i’m sorry i’m broken, but no words would come out.
the pressure behind your eyes swelled. you swallowed hard, but it didn’t help.
embry looked at the untouched granola bar on your desk, then at your sunken eyes. he knew what this was. finals stress had only made it worse, the fixation, the self-denial, the punishing voice in your head whispering that you weren’t doing enough, being enough.
“sweetheart,” he said gently, “have you eaten today?
tears pricked behind your eyes.
you shook your head.
embry didn’t scold you. he didn’t sigh. he simply moved, sat behind you on the floor and pulled you back into him, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder like you were the one he needed.
he reached for your hand, slow and patient, like touching a scared animal. when his fingers laced through yours, something inside you cracked.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t want you to see me like this.”
embry’s brows drew together. his grip on your hand tightened just a little. grounding, not restrictive.
“like what?” he asked, gently.
“like a mess,” you said. “like i’m falling apart.”
he turned toward you fully, pulling you gently so you faced him.
“you’re not a mess,” he said, firmly but softly. “you’re exhausted. you’re overwhelmed. that’s not the same thing.”
your throat burned.
“i’m so tired,” you admitted, voice trembling. “i try to study but i can’t think. i can’t eat. i feel like i have to earn every breath. every bite. and i can’t.”
embry inhaled slowly, deeply. not surprised, just aching. he held you tighter.
he didn’t rush to speak. embry brushed his thumb over your knuckles, eyes searching your face like he was memorizing you.
“you don’t have to earn food,” he said finally. “you don’t have to earn rest. or love. or care. you don’t have to earn anything with me.”
tears welled before you could stop them. you looked away, ashamed.
“you don’t have to ace every test. you don’t have to shrink yourself to be worthy.” his voice broke a little. “baby, you’re my entire world.”
“you’re my imprint. you’re the girl i love, the one meant for me. whether you pass or fail, whether you eat one bite or ten. none of that changes what i feel for you.”
“but i feel like i’m always failing,” you whispered, breaking a little with each word. “like no matter what i do, it’s not good enough.”
embry didn’t hesitate. he gathered you into his arms before the sob could escape. he held you close, tucking your head beneath his chin like he was shielding you from the world.
“shh, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “you’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough. you’re not failing, you’re trying. and i see how hard that is. i see you.”
you melted into him as the tears broke loose, muffled and aching in your chest.
“i don’t want to keep doing this,” you whispered. “but i don’t know how to stop.”
embry kissed the crown of your head. “we’ll figure it out. together. step by step. okay?”
you nodded, tears wetting his shirt.
he rocked you slowly, one hand splayed on your back, the other brushing soothing circles along your arm. he didn’t try to fix it. he didn’t offer empty words. he just stayed. present. steady. unshakable.
eventually, your breathing slowed. the panic didn’t vanish but it softened. it became something less sharp. less alone.
“i brought something,” he said after a while, pulling his hoodie pocket open. inside was a small container neatly packed with sliced strawberries, a couple crackers, and a little chocolate heart wrapped in foil.
you looked at it, then at him. he held it out gently.
“no pressure. i just thought… maybe food could feel safe again. just for a few minutes. just here. it’s just you and me.”
you hesitated. but the way he looked at you. not disappointed, not demanding, just quietly hopeful—made something shift inside.
you took a piece of strawberry.
it was small. just one bite. but embry’s face softened like you’d done something heroic.
“that’s my girl,” he whispered, kissing your temple again. “i’m so proud of you, baby.”
you leaned into him, chewing slowly, and he held you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.
when you finally crawled into bed, wrapped in one of his old sweatshirts, embry curled in behind you and held you close, his voice warm against your skin.
“you’re not alone in this,” he murmured. “i’ll be right here. every step of the way.”
you turned toward him slowly, eyes tired but searching his face, your fingers brushing along the line of his jaw.
“even when it’s too much?”
he smiled softly, achingly, and kissed your forehead like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.
“especially then.”
he rubbed soft circles along your back, slow and steady, like he was rewriting the panic in your body with every pass of his hand.
and that night, for the first time in days, you fell asleep with a full heart and just enough hope to try again tomorrow.