your bedroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan and the distant sound of a car passing somewhere down the street. the lamp on your nightstand cast a warm glow across the room, lighting the bed and the floor while the corners stayed dim and shadowed. it made everything feel smaller, calmer, like the world outside didn’t exist for a little while.

don sat at the edge of your bed with his shoulders hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees. he looked out of place in the quiet, like he’d brought something heavy in with him that didn’t belong there. usually he had something to say, some crooked grin or smart remark to keep things light. tonight he barely moved.

his hands were clasped together tightly, fingers rubbing against each other like he didn’t know where else to put them. every so often he dragged a hand over his face and pushed his hair back, breathing out slowly through his nose.

the silence stretched until he finally spoke, voice low and rough.

“i don’t get it.”

his eyes stayed on the carpet, jaw tight like he was trying to hold something in. he shook his head a little, swallowing hard before speaking again.

“i tried.”

the words barely left his mouth before he let out a shaky breath. his fingers curled tighter together, knuckles paling as he stared down at the floor.

“i tried so damn hard.”

his voice cracked on the last word.

he blinked quickly after that, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand like he could wipe the emotion away before it showed too much. his shoulders rose and fell unevenly as he tried to steady his breathing, but it didn’t quite work.

for years he’d pushed himself to be whatever his dad wanted him to be. tougher, better, someone worth being proud of. he’d convinced himself that if he just kept trying, if he got it right one more time, eventually it would be enough.

sitting there now though, shoulders tense and eyes glassy under the dim light, it looked like that belief had finally started to crack.