Luke’s childhood home is oppressively quiet, and he can’t shake the feeling that all the stuffed bears are judging him, their beady eyes reminding him of actions. Regret gnaws at him; he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze from across the room.

He’s struggling to remember the last time he lost his temper like this. It was like the words you uttered about wanting him to move on with the past and not letting his little sister hold him back hit a nerve, igniting a response he didn’t intend.

Luke’s gaze falls to his trembling hands. He clenches them into a fist before shoving them into his pockets. The little bear on his coat jingles, hitting the side of his thigh as he walks to the door. His green eyes swim with uncertainty as he grips the door knob. “I’m goin’ for a walk,” his voice comes out as small and filled with guilt and frustration. He doesn’t feel worthy of being your boyfriend.