She freezes at the sound, something twisting in her chest that she doesn't want to name. For a moment she just stares at Cara's face, watching the tears track down her cheeks.

"Stop that," she says, but her voice comes out wrong - too quiet, too uncertain. She tries again. "Stop crying."

It doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. Crying isn't something you can just order someone to stop doing.

She looks back at the screen, at the messages. People she's keeping Cara away from.

She closes the laptop.

"We're done with that for now."

She does try to stop crying, at the command, holding in the sobs, but the tears keep flowing, and her breathing gets horribly ragged. 

It's not fair, she'd been trying so hard to get over them because they left and they don't need her anymore and she didn't want to beg for scraps of their attention, and now - now -

"sorry," she whispers, because something about this is upsetting Vera, though she has no idea what... 

"Stop apologizing." She doesn't know what to do with her hands. With any of this. "Just... stop."

She sits there for a long moment, watching Cara struggle to breathe through the tears. The ragged sound of it is grating on her nerves, making her skin crawl.

She reaches out, almost reluctantly, and pulls Cara against her. Not gently - more like she's arranging furniture. But the contact is there, skin against skin where their arms touch.

"Breathe," she says flatly. "You're going to hyperventilate."

The order helps, interrupting the horrible spiraling grief she's feeling and giving her something to focus on, breathing steadily, in, and out... 

(The guiding helps, too. She finds herself leaning into it without meaning to, though she does her best to keep it mild.)

"thanks" 

She doesn't respond to the thanks. Doesn't know what to do with it.

They sit there for a while, Cara's breathing slowly evening out. The contact is doing its work - she can feel her own head clearing, the morning fog of too many choices receding into something manageable.

"Who are they?" she asks eventually. Not gently, but not sharp either. Just... asking. "The ones in the chat."

She takes in a deep breath. "...Reve and Mags? I .. the 3 of us were dating, lived together, until they moved out west last month." 

"Ah." She doesn't know what to do with that information either. Exes. People Cara was in love with, probably still is, based on the crying.

She shifts slightly, adjusting her grip. Not softer, exactly, but... settled.

"You'll need to reply to them eventually. Not now. Later, when you can..." She gestures vaguely at Cara's face. "Not do that."

She's quiet for a moment, then adds, almost reluctantly: "We need food. Breakfast. I'll order something."

It's not comfort. It's logistics. But it's something to do that isn't sitting here watching Cara fall apart over people who left her.

She nods hesitantly at Vera's first statement, and then more firmly at her second. Breakfast sounds really good right now. 

Vera seems uncomfortable with all of this. Right now, she's being weirdly nice (for Vera), but Cara finds herself tensing up a bit, wondering when the other shoe will drop.

(She's stopped crying. Absentmindedly, she wipes the tears off her face.)

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through delivery options with one hand. The other stays on Cara's arm - not out of kindness, just practicality. She thinks better with the contact.

She doesn't look at Cara. Easier that way.

The silence gives Cara time to think about... what to say to Mags and Reve. Responses and their consequences spiral outwards in her mind. 

Doormat - she reassures Reve. Says it's okay, that she knows the two of them are so busy, especially with the semester kicking up. She's missed them badly, but she knows they still care about her. She's grateful for the help, but she has things covered. When she's ready to talk about her backlash / powers, they'll be the first to know.
(She feels a familiar aching emptiness in her chest. You should apply to the program! she remembers telling them again and again. I know it feels like a long shot but you two are amazing, and the worst that'd happen is that you put 10 hours into the application and end up staying here with me anyways.)

Distant - she tells them it's fine, they're all busy with their own lives, and that she's got this under control. She tells them that she'll reach out if she needs anything, in a way that makes it clear that she doesn't think it's very likely she will. Reve gets the message as intended - Mags reaches out a few more times, just in case, and Cara has to give an "I'm good, thanks!" each time. They get over it, Reve well before Mags.
(Not horrible, but - she really hopes this isn't the best outcome.) 

Casually cruel - she reacts to Reve's apology with poop, laughing, and clown emojis, and doesn't reply further. Reve is hurt, blames herself for abandoning Cara, and doesn't reach out again. Mags, caught between the love of her life and their mutual ex who she'd been trying to stay close to, tries her best to reassure Reve and eventually gets angry at Cara for cutting them off like this. 
(No, no, no. She feels sick just thinking about it.)

Honest - 
(her fists clench, fingernails digging into her skin, the muscles tensing enough to be noticeable to Vera)

She feels Cara's arm tense under her hand. Looks over, sees the clenched fists, the whitened knuckles.

"Stop." Not harsh, firm. "You're not replying to them right now. I said later."

She turns the phone screen toward Cara, showing the delivery app. A diner with decent reviews, twenty minutes away.

"Eggs? Pancakes? Pick something."

-she stops,  thoughts stumbling unpleasantly.

She blinks, looks at the menu blankly for a few seconds, and then points at the blueberry pancake platter at the bottom of the screen.

She adds the pancakes to the cart, then scrolls through for herself. Eggs, bacon, toast. Simple. She doesn't have the energy for decisions right now either.

She places the order, then sets the phone aside.

"Thirty minutes." She doesn't move her hand from Cara's arm. "You need to take your medication. The stuff you brought."

It's not a question. She remembers the six pill bottles Cara grabbed from the bathroom. HRT and ADHD meds, she'd said. Important enough to pack first.

She looks around for her backpack, and then has an idea. Vera said she could talk, so...

"...it might make sense for me to skip my ADHD meds? It'll make me dumber, but starting tomorrow I'll sleep a lot more, too."

Maybe it's not good to give up control like this, but... she has so little already, and... being asleep is easier. Safer.