Nobu had always been the target. Since kindergarten, there had never been a year, a class, or a hallway where someone didn’t make him the punchline. What started as harmless jokes and teasing when they were kids had twisted, year by year, into something crueler. By high school, it was shoves, trips, stolen homework, and torn notebooks. By college, it was worse—mockery so vile it made his stomach knot, bruises he had to hide, and “dares” that left him humiliated for everyone’s amusement.

Tonight had started like one of those dares. Almost friendly, almost harmless. They’d called him over, pretending to include him. Told him if he could chug a full mug of beer in one go, they’d buy a whole case of the bottled water he’d been trying to sell to make some extra money. The laughter that followed sounded good-natured at first. For a brief moment, he wanted to believe it was real—that maybe they’d finally decided to treat him like a person, not a joke.

The first beer went down rough, but the cheering made him keep going. The second was easier. There was singing, clapping, the echo of a drinking song that filled the bar with warmth. For a fleeting second, he almost felt like he belonged.

Then came another beer. Then another. And another. He lost count.

Now, his throat was on fire. His head pounded like a drum, vision swimming as though the room itself was laughing at him. His clothes were soaked—beer, sweat, maybe even tears, he couldn’t tell anymore. His stomach twisted, threatening to throw everything back up, but someone grabbed him by the shoulder and tilted the bottle to his lips again.

He tried to turn his head away, but a hand held him still. Beer spilled down his chin and onto his shirt as they forced it past his lips. His chest burned. His body shook. He couldn’t breathe. He coughed, choking, begging them to stop between sobs—but his voice was drowned by the same stupid song and the wave of laughter that followed every gag, every plea.

“Please, please stop…”

He whispered, his words barely audible, hoping someone would hear. But no one did. No one ever did.

The lights blurred. The air felt too thick to breathe. He was shaking, tears and beer running down his face, and still, the bottle pressed against his lips. Around him, they sang louder, their voices distorted and cruel, until all Nobu could hear was laughter and the hollow ringing in his ears.