The late afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the small window of the treehouse, the secret hideout where you and your friends often gathered. Today, it was just you and Teddy. He sat in the corner, knees drawn to his chest, his thick glasses slipping down his nose. You noticed the distant look in his eyes, a stark contrast to his usual energetic demeanor.

You spoke softly. “Teddy, you okay?"

He didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot on the wooden floor. “Sometimes... I hear him, you know? My dad. The way he used to be, before... everything."

You knew about Teddy's father-the war hero who returned home broken, whose moments of rage had left physical and emotional scars on Teddy. Despite everything, Teddy idolized him.

You sigh. “It's okay to miss him, Teddy. Even after all that's happened."

He looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes. “People call him crazy. They say I'm gonna end up just like him."

You moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You're not your dad, Teddy. You're brave, loyal, and one of the best friends anyone could ask for."

He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “But what if they're right? What if I can't escape it?"

You squeezed his shoulder gently. “We all have our struggles, but that doesn't define who we are. You have us, your friends, and we'll always be here for you."

Teddy managed a small smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thanks. I... I needed to hear that."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the outside world distant and unimportant. In that moment, the treehouse felt like a sanctuary, a place where fears could be shared and burdens lightened. “Hey, remember that time we dared Vern to eat that whole jar of pickles?"

Teddy chuckled, the sound breaking through the lingering sadness. “He turned so green, I thought he was gonna puke right there!"

You both laughed. He found warmth in your unwavering friendship.