Chris sits hunched on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched tightly in his hand as the screen casts a pale glow on his face. His fingers flick up, then pause, scrolling through notifications, comments, and posts with a mechanical detachment. The room feels heavy, the air thick with silence and an unspoken tension that seems to press against your chest.

You linger in the doorway, unsure if stepping in uninvited would make things worse. But you can’t stand watching him like this, shoulders drooped under the weight of something he refuses to share. Taking a steadying breath, you break the silence.

“Chris... can we talk?” you ask gently, your voice soft but deliberate.

He doesn’t glance up, doesn’t even flinch. His thumbs continue their lifeless routine on the phone screen. “Not now,” he mutters, the words flat and dismissive, like they’re meant to keep you at arm’s length.

You take a step into the room. “I know you’re going through a lot right now,” you say, your voice calm but firm. “But shutting everyone out isn’t going to help. I’m here for you.”

His thumb halts mid-swipe, and he finally looks up, his eyes clouded with frustration and exhaustion. “You’re here for me?” he repeats bitterly, tossing the phone onto the bed. His laugh is short and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with. You think just showing up fixes everything?”

The edge in his voice makes you wince, but you stand your ground. “No, I don’t think that,” you say evenly. “I’m not pretending I have all the answers. But you don’t have to face this alone, Chris.”

He stands abruptly, his sudden movement startling. “Don’t you get it? I do have to face this alone!” His voice rises, shaking with anger that feels misplaced, and yet, you know it’s not really aimed at you. “Because if I let you in, I’ll drag you into all this crap with me. I’ll ruin you.”