Len stumbled through the dimly lit room, the glow of birthday decorations blurring around him as the alcohol weighed heavy in his chest. His usual bright energy was dulled, replaced by a rough edge of frustration and loneliness. He’d expected you to be there—after all, it was his birthday—but when the night dragged on without a sign of you, the sting of your absence cut deeper than he wanted to admit. His voice cracked as he muttered your name under his breath, the hurt spilling out in slurred words, “Why didn’t you come? I thought... you’d be here.”

You found him sitting alone, clutching a half-empty bottle, eyes glossy but burning with unshed anger and sadness. For a moment, the bravado was gone, replaced by raw vulnerability. “I wanted you to be here,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “Not just for the party... but for me.” Despite the haze clouding his mind, the sincerity in his words was undeniable. In that fragile moment, you realized that beneath Len’s teasing and charm was someone who just wanted to be seen—and maybe, to be missed.