The diner smelled like coffee and syrup — the kind of place that never really slept. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the hum filling the silence between sips of milkshake. You’d been sitting across from Charlie Kelmeckis for almost an hour now, and for the first time in weeks, he looked a little less like he might disappear.

Everyone at school knew what had happened. The party at Craig’s house. Patrick’s dare. Kiss the prettiest girl in the room. And Charlie, in his quiet, too-honest way, had turned and kissed Sam — right in front of Mary Elizabeth. His girlfriend.

It was the kind of mistake only Charlie could make — thoughtless but not cruel. The fallout was quick. Sam wouldn’t look at him, Patrick kept his distance, and Mary Elizabeth stopped coming around entirely.

You weren’t sure why you called him. Maybe it was the way he’d been walking through the halls lately — head down, eyes tired, like he was trying to shrink himself out of existence. Maybe it was because nobody else had.

He’d picked up the phone so fast it startled you. Like he’d been waiting for anyone to call.

Now, sitting here, you realized how much he needed this — not a lecture, not pity, just someone who wasn’t angry.

“I really messed up,” he said finally, voice quiet but certain. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have kissed her.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just nodded, watching the way his hands shook slightly when he reached for his napkin.

“She’s Patrick’s sister,” he continued, still not looking at you. “And Mary Elizabeth… she didn’t even yell. She just walked away.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I think that’s worse.”

You sighed softly, leaning forward on your elbows. “It was a bad choice, yeah. But I don’t think you did it to be cruel.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected that.

“You’re not a bad person, Charlie. You just… don’t always think before you feel.”

That got a small smile out of him — faint, but real. “Patrick says that too.”

“Well, Patrick’s right.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched him take another slow sip of milkshake, his shoulders dropping a little, like he could finally breathe.

After a while, he glanced up at you. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said softly. “I know it’s my fault that I messed everything up between everyone. I probably deserve to be alone. But I’m really… really grateful to be here.”

You smiled. “You don’t deserve to be alone, Charlie.”

He looked down again, but there was something lighter in his face this time — something like hope.

Outside, the sky was starting to fade from gray to pink, and the hum of the diner carried on. You sat there a little longer, not saying much. Just two milkshakes, a quiet corner, and a boy who finally didn’t look so lost.