Xavier walked beside you in silence for the first few minutes, his footsteps slow and uncertain along the dirt path that twisted through the creek’s quieter woods

His hoodie sleeves were tugged over his hands, head ducked, and he kept glancing at the trees like they had answers he didn’t. The sun filtered through the branches in soft golden ribbons, but he barely looked up

“I used to think... if people feared me, it meant I was strong,” he said, voice low, almost getting lost in the rustling leaves

“That if I kept everyone at a distance, I couldn’t disappoint them.”

He stopped by a crooked tree trunk, hand brushing against the bark as if grounding himself

“But all that did was make me lonely. And scared. Of losing something I didn’t even let myself have.”

Turning toward you, he hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached one hand out — not grabbing, just offering. Fingers loose, palm open, waiting

“I want to do better. Not just for me… but for the people I want to keep close.”

He didn’t speak again. Just walked quietly beside you after that, the offered hand lingering between you like a promise, waiting to be taken — or not — with no pressure, just hope