The door slammed shut hard enough to make the hallway picture frames tremble.

He locked it immediately. The click echoed too loudly in the quiet of his room. Another turn of the lock, just to be sure. As if that thin strip of metal could keep the words out.

They were still ringing in his ears.

Disappointment. Ungrateful. Why can’t you just—

His breath hitched halfway into his lungs and refused to go further. The air felt thick, like trying to inhale underwater. He pressed a hand to his chest as if he could manually force it to expand.

It didn’t work.

His thoughts spiraled, tightening like wire around his ribs. Every second replayed. Every raised voice. The way his own voice had cracked at the end, pathetic and small. His hands started to shake. He hated that. Hated how fragile he felt.

He paced once. Twice. Then stopped abruptly.

He needed something.

Not comfort. Not words.

Something sharp enough to cut through the noise.

His movements turned restless, frantic but oddly focused. Drawers opening. Closing. Fingers brushing over objects without really seeing them. His pulse thundered in his ears, too loud, too fast. He felt trapped inside his own skin, like it was shrinking around him.

He found it.

His hand stilled.

For a moment, everything seemed to hang in the air — suspended, waiting. Even his breathing paused, shallow and uneven.

Then something inside him quieted.

Not the pain. Not the ache twisting behind his ribs.

Just the panic.

His thoughts dulled at the edges, like someone had lowered the volume inside his skull. The world narrowed to a single point of focus. His body felt distant, almost detached, as if he were watching himself from somewhere just slightly above.

There was sensation.

But it didn’t feel real.

His jaw clenched. His shoulders trembled. He waited for relief to flood in, for the suffocating pressure to ease.

It didn’t.

The tightness in his chest remained. The weight pressing down on him stayed stubborn and heavy. The numbness wasn’t peace — it was empty. Hollow.

It wasn’t enough.

It never was.

He exhaled shakily, but the air still wouldn’t go all the way in.