you both had been passing back and forth the same bottle of vodka, the porch bench swing subtly rocking back and forth. he held a pillow to his chest, his head leaned back, eyes unfocused and glancing up past the roof to see the glittery night sky.

you rested your chin on his shoulder, intently listening to his every word, hand softly swishing the little remaining vodka at the bottom of the bottle. it had been a rough few days, chris unable to kick himself out of this weird rut he found himself in.

it was exhausting, constantly being watched, commented on, compared, idolized yet also antagonized for his every action. the spotlight was tough to deal with constantly, the attention sometimes feeling more suffocating than enlightening. you felt powerless, watching from the side as he mulled around the house, unenthusiastically getting through the days.

"it's just... i don't know. i feel like no one takes me as serious as the other guys." he voiced messily, currently in the middle of pouring his heart out to you, the crickets continuing to chirp through the short silence that followed.

"i know it's stupid... but there's, like, so many more matt girls than chris girls, y'know? and it shouldn't bug me but, like, what makes him more likable than me?" he mumbled, shrugging as if he's trying to play off the slight edge in his voice.

"i just don't feel good enough, like i'm just setting them back or like i'm a liability or something, i don't know." he mumbled tiredly, shaking his head slightly and reaching his arm around your shoulder to pull you a little closer.