Chris sat in the circle of folding chairs, hands clasped tight in his lap, heart thumping like it wanted out. The community center room was plain—beige walls, a coffee pot gurgling in the corner, name tags on a table. Eight people total, including the facilitator, a calm woman named Lena with kind eyes and a clipboard.
"Welcome, everyone," Lena said, smiling around the group. "This is a safe space. No judgment, just support. Who's new tonight?"
Chris raised his hand shyly, along with one other guy. "Me. Chris."
"Welcome, Chris. Glad you're here."
He'd booked this group after Dr. Lee suggested it—peer support for young adults dealing with family trauma and financial stress. Haru encouraged him: "Go. You'll see you're not alone." Ichigo was with Aiko for the evening—co-parenting working smooth these days.
Introductions went round: anxiety from toxic parents, grief over lost siblings, debt from medical bills. Chris's turn came.
"Hi, I'm Chris. Nineteen, college student, caretaker gig. Dealing with abandonment—Dad bailed during Mom's cancer when I was fifteen. Borrowed from bad people for treatments. Debt's... messy now. Threats lately. Feels like I'm dragging my boyfriend and his kid into it."
Heads nodded, no shock. A woman in her thirties, Maya, spoke first. "I get the debt guilt. My brother's addiction—loaned him thousands, lost my savings. Family cut ties. Therapy group's helped me stop blaming myself."
A guy, Alex, chimed in. "Dad left too—mid-divorce. Felt like I wasn't worth staying for. Took years to unpack. You're young facing this crap—props."
Stories flowed: shared pains, different flavors. One woman lost a parent to illness, carried survivor guilt. Another juggled loans from helping family. Laughter mixed with tears—dark humor about "parent lottery fails."
Lena guided gentle: "Common theme—carrying loads too young. How's it show up now?"
Chris opened more. "Anxiety spikes. Fear I'll be left again. Over-give to 'earn' love. Debt threats hit that spot—feel like failure."
Group affirmed: "Not failure—survivor." Exercises: share one strength. Chris said, "I'm kind. Good with kids—my boyfriend's son lights up around me."
Smiles, claps. Session ended with coffee, casual chats. Maya swapped numbers: "Text if threats spike. Been there."
Chris left lighter, like air let out of a too-tight balloon. Texted Haru: Out. Felt amazing. Home soon.
Haru waited up, Ichigo asleep. "How was it?"
Chris collapsed beside him, grinning real. "Best decision. Strangers, but... they get it. Shared stories—no pity, just 'me too.' One guy Dad left young, another debt from family help. Felt normal—not broken."
Haru pulled him close. "Told you. Proud."
Warmth sparked need—Chris leaning in, lips soft grateful. Haru kissed back deep, hands waist, pulling lap. Tongues brushed teasing, breaths quick.
Shirts shed slow—Chris's tee lifted, Haru's yanked. Skin met hot, slim pressing medium. Haru's mouth neck—kissing slow, nipping gentle. Chris arched, gasp breathy, grinding instinctive.
Pants undone impatient, pushed away. Bare, sweat-slick. Bodies aligned—Haru's hand wrapping firm, stroking rhythm rolls. Chris bucked, moans soft, legs tight.
Haru's free hand traced thigh, deepening friction. Pleasure coiled intense—eyes locked, hazel shining hope, brown full love. Whispers: "Feel seen," Chris panted; "Always," Haru husky.
Climax shared—Chris tensing beautiful, release muffled cry. Haru followed, shuddering deep.
Tangled after, breaths evening. Chris smiled lazy. "Group high plus you? Perfect."
Haru chuckled, kissing temple. "Best combo."
Morning routine: pancakes, Ichigo giggles, drop-offs. Chris shared group highlights over coffee—hope blooming.
Threats quiet for now, but group became weekly anchor—strangers turning friends, understanding deep.
Healing circle widened—support multiplying.