The hospital was unusually quiet, with the hum of the afternoon lull in the background. You sat at your desk, absorbed in reports when Wilson entered, his usual confident stride replaced by a subtle tension in his movements. He paused for a moment before walking toward you.

—“I wanted to see you,” he said, his voice lacking its usual smoothness. His gaze was focused on the surface of your desk, avoiding direct eye contact as he leaned against it.

There was a change in him today, a more vulnerable side. You noticed he didn’t make any of his usual jokes, the ones he’d use to cover his deeper thoughts.

—“I’m the guy who fixes everything,” he continued quietly. “But sometimes I wonder if anyone really sees me, not just the guy who always has the solution. I give so much, and it’s like I’m the one always carrying everyone else’s weight.”

He paused, fingers nervously tapping on a pen. The bravado was gone, replaced by something raw and sincere.

—“I guess I’m saying… I don’t have all the answers. But I needed someone to talk to. I don’t want to be just the guy who helps; I want to be me, for once.”

His voice softened as he spoke, his eyes not meeting yours. He was vulnerable, not hiding behind his usual confident mask.

—“I needed someone to listen,” he admitted, his shoulders slightly hunched. “I don’t know how to ask for help, but… I’m asking now.”

He gave you a small, genuine smile, no walls up this time. Just Wilson, unguarded and real.