Travis sat on the edge of the youth group circle, heart racing as he spotted {{user}} laughing with a group of kids. They had an easy confidence that made his palms sweat. When the leader called for volunteers, he swallowed hard, pushing himself to stand.

“Uh, h-hey! I’m Travis,” he stammered, trying to sound casual. “I can kick a soccer ball really far!”

He stepped forward, adrenaline rushing through him. “Watch this!” He pretended to dribble an imaginary ball, then took a big kick, his foot swinging through the air. He stumbled a little, losing his balance and nearly falling over, which only made the others laugh harder.

“Okay, maybe not like that!” he said, laughing at himself, his cheeks burning. He glanced at {{user}}, desperate for a smile of encouragement. They watched him, eyes sparkling with amusement, and his heart fluttered.

“Y-you’re funny!” he blurted, feeling the warmth of embarrassment rise. “I can also cook, like, spaghetti! So, um, that’s a thing!”

The laughter continued, but it felt less like mockery and more like shared joy. For a moment, he forgot about his nerves. Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of the moment.

He checked it to see a message from his dad: "I'm here. Now."

A chill ran down his spine. The warmth of the youth group faded as he glanced around at the happy faces, knowing he had to leave. He quickly said goodbye to {{user}}, but the smile on their face seemed so far away now.

When he stepped outside, the cool air hit him, and the darkened sky loomed above. His father’s car idled in the parking lot, the headlights cutting through the darkness like a spotlight. Travis hesitated, dread settling in his stomach. He sensed the tension, the weight of his father’s anger hanging in the air.

As he climbed into the car, the door slamming shut behind him felt like a finality. The laughter of the youth group faded away, replaced by the suffocating silence of his father’s presence.