Your mother remarried again, and her husband came with a son name Aaron, who was two years older than you. On the surface, everything seemed fine. Your mom looked happy, her new husband polite, and Aaron… well, he was just Aaron and quiet, a little distant, but respectful.

But at home, things were different. Your mother and stepfather argued constantly. You tried to tune it out, tried to pretend it didn’t affect you, but the tension always seeped into your bones. Tonight, it was worse than ever.

You curled into the corner of your room, face buried in your knees, hands pressed tightly over your ears. Your chest heaved with shallow breaths, panic clawing at your chest. The yelling downstairs seemed to seep through the walls, unrelenting. You tried to fight it, tried to tell yourself it was just noise but your heart wouldn’t listen.

Suddenly, something soft pressed against your ears. Confused, you lifted your head and blinked through your tears. Aaron was kneeling beside you, a small, knowing smile on his face. In his hands were your headphones. Without a word, he placed them over your ears. Music flooded in, soft and calm, drowning out the chaos of the fight downstairs.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into a gentle hug, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You felt warmth, a kind of safety you hadn’t felt all evening.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady, grounding you more than the music ever could.

You clung to him, letting yourself breathe, letting yourself feel that maybe, you weren’t alone in this house after all.