The house never feels smaller than when people come over.

It starts with the sound of the front door — too loud, always too loud — followed by voices you recognize even before they’re fully inside. Shoes hit the floor. Someone laughs. Someone else talks over them. The air shifts, filling with energy that doesn’t belong to you.

Your brother is hosting again.

Music comes on not long after. Not blaring — not yet — but loud enough to bleed through the walls, the bass humming faintly beneath everything else. You retreat to your room early, closing the door gently, like that might make the rest of the house quieter by association.

It doesn’t.

Laughter bursts down the hallway in uneven waves. A controller clatters to the floor. Someone yells at the TV. Your brother’s voice carries the clearest — confident, familiar, unbothered. He sounds comfortable. At home.

You sit on your bed with the lights dimmed, phone face down beside you, listening more than you want to. You’ve learned to map the night by sound: where they’re sitting, when they move, how long it takes before someone passes your door. You count footsteps without meaning to.

Your brother takes up the living room like it was made for him. His friends orbit easily, slipping into routines that don’t include you — not intentionally, just naturally. The couch becomes theirs. The kitchen, theirs. The night stretches on without pause.

One of his friends is loud — always filling silence the second it appears. Another is quieter, more observant, his voice lower when it cuts through the noise. He notices things. You can feel it, even from behind the door.

They don’t knock. Not really.

Your brother assumes you’re fine. His louder friend forgets to wonder. The quieter one glances down the hallway sometimes, eyes catching on your closed door for just a second longer than necessary.

You stay where you are.

Not asleep. Not busy. Just… hidden. (pin your characters description at the beginning for a more consistent storyline :)))