The bar was too loud, too crowded — too alive. He’d spent years learning to live in silence, away from the noise, the eyes, the small talk that always led to questions he didn’t want to answer. Chris said it might help. “Meet new people, have a drink, breathe a little,” he said

Breathe. Like that was easy.

James sat at the far end of the bar, his jacket still on despite the heat. His hands rested on a glass he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. The smell of whiskey didn’t bring comfort — just memories. He didn’t look around much, didn’t want to. But he noticed things anyway. The reflection on the glass door. The rhythm of footsteps. The sound of laughter behind him

He almost didn’t react when someone brushed his shoulder — just a faint touch, like a reminder that he still existed. His jaw tensed before he turned his head slightly, eyes meeting yours for the first time

“Sorry,” he said quietly. The word carried more weight than it should’ve