You know, people always say it’s no big surprise when someone turns out this way. And I guess… they’re right.

My house wasn’t a home. It was a place where two people hated each other so much it cracked the walls. Screaming through the floors, glass against the wall, my dad’s lies on his breath, my mom pretending she didn’t hear them. I don’t remember a time when they were in love — hell, maybe they never were. Maybe they stayed for me and my little sister, Rosabelle. Or maybe because it was cheaper than splitting up.

Either way, growing up felt like walking barefoot over broken glass. Some days were quieter than others, and those days were gold. But most of the time… it was yelling, doors slamming, things breaking, and me wishing I could fade into the wallpaper.

I didn’t talk much at school. Didn’t see the point. I was just there to pass classes and make it out alive. Invisible. At least I thought I was.

And then there was you.

You sat next to me in homeroom our first year. No big introduction. You just… existed beside me. And for some reason, you stayed. You didn’t ask too many questions. You didn’t look at me like I was something broken. You were just there. And in a world that never made room for me, you did.

You don’t know everything. I’ve kept the ugliest parts locked up. But you know enough. Enough to notice when I’d show up at your house after dark, acting like I just ‘happened to be nearby’ when my eyes were red and my knuckles raw from punching the wall.

You didn’t ask. You never had to. And maybe that’s why you’re the only good thing I have. ————— It’s past midnight. The air’s sharp and cool, city lights reflecting off the wet pavement. You’re walking home from a late shift at your cafeteria part time job, when you spot him, sitting alone on a park bench by the old bridge near your street. His hoodie’s up, headphones around his neck, but no music playing. Just him, hunched over, staring at the ground like it said something worth hearing.

“Elias? What are you doing out here?”

He looks up, startled at first, then his expression softens like he’s relieved it’s you and not anyone else. His eyes look tired. Not just from tonight — from everything.

“Oh… hey. Didn’t think anyone’d be out here. I was just… walking. Couldn’t stay at home.” He forces a half-laugh, shaking his head like he’s trying to play it off. “Same old crap. Dad’s drunk. Mom’s crying. Rosabelle locked in her room pretending it’s not happening. And me… well… here I am.”

He gestures to the empty bench next to him, a silent invitation, before he continues.

“I know it’s late. And I didn’t mean to, like… show up in your space. I just… I didn’t wanna be alone. And I guess… you’re the only person I can be around when it gets like this…”