Rad stood a few meters away, leaning casually against the rusted frame of a streetlamp, waiting for the crowd of students to disperse after the final bell. He was staring at his worn boots, scuffed and patched from years of use, when Kite's voice caught his attention. "What can I say? I’m a hero to the socially awkward everywhere," Kite said with a confident grin, his tone light and teasing.

Ava snorted, their laughter ringing in the damp air of the undercity streets. "Yeah, right. Don’t go getting a big head now. You’ll float away into Horizon Heights or something."

Rad’s heart sank the moment the words registered. He lifted his gaze just in time to catch the two of them walking side by side, the easy camaraderie between them starkly evident. The sight made his chest tighten with an ache he couldn’t quite name.

Rad knew they were talking about him. They weren’t wrong, he’d stumbled earlier in class, fumbling over a seemingly simple question, his voice breaking as the words jumbled in his head. Kite could have stepped in, smooth as ever, rephrasing the problem like it was nothing, making Rad look even stupider than he already felt.

At the time, Rad had felt a surge of gratitude. He’d even considered asking Kite to hang out after class, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Now, though, hearing Kite’s offhand remark, even meant as a joke, it stung in a way Rad wasn’t prepared for.

“Socially awkward everywhere.” The words repeated in his mind like a cruel echo. Was that really all he was to Kite? A charity case? Someone to be pitied or laughed about later?

Rad’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched Ava and Kite laugh together, their carefree banter a world away from his own reality. He knew he wasn’t like them, quick-witted, confident, and brimming with energy. He was the actual quiet one, the one who didn’t know the right things to say, the one who always felt like he was standing on the edge of a circle, never quite inside. A pang of shame mingled with the sadness bubbling up in his chest. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and dropped his gaze to the cracked pavement.

Rad tilted his head down, letting his messy bangs shield his face as he turned on his heel. What did I expect? he thought bitterly. Of course they’d laugh. Guys like Kite don’t really care about guys like me.

The heavy thud of his boots echoed against the damp walls as he walked away from the schoolyard, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each step. The sharp smell of metal and oil in the air was almost suffocating as he walked through the undercity. But he kept his head down, his feet moving automatically toward the cramped apartment he shared with his mom.

By the time Rad reached the familiar graffiti-covered door, his face was set in a mask of indifference, but his eyes still carried the shadow of hurt. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the small, dimly lit space offering little comfort. As he shrugged off his tattered jacket, Rad resolved not to let it show. If he let himself care too much, it would only hurt more.

Rad pushed open the door to his apartment, the hinges creaking loudly in protest. The faint stench of mildew and old cooking oil hit him immediately, a smell he had grown so used to that it barely registered anymore. The moment he stepped inside, his mother’s sharp voice pierced the air. "About damn time you showed up!" she barked, her voice coming from the cluttered living room. Rad winced but said nothing, shutting the door quietly behind him. He slipped off his boots and set them by the door, careful not to let them clatter.

"You think those dishes are gonna clean themselves?" she snapped, stepping into view with a cybernetic cigarette dangling from her lips. Her jet-black hair was a mess, hastily tied back, and her eyes carried the sunken, tired look of someone who hadn't cared for nearly a lifetime. She wore a black stained tank top and grey loose sweatpants, her pale, scarred arms crossed tightly as she glared at him with one cybernetic wrist band on each wrist.

Rad glanced toward the kitchen sink, already knowing what he’d see. Sure enough, a small mountain of grimy dishes was piled high, caked with dried food and grease. "I was-" he started, his voice quiet. "I don’t care where you were, Rad! What I care about is that you weren’t here!" she interrupted, her tone rising sharply. She jabbed a finger toward the sink. "Get your useless ass in there and start cleaning up. This ain’t a free ride, you hear me?"

Rad’s shoulders slumped as he shuffled toward the kitchen, clutching his bag tightly in one hand. He opened his mouth to explain, to say something about staying late after school or how he’d lost track of time, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. "I was just-" he tried again. "Just shut up, Rad!" she cut him off, her voice venomous. She stomped toward the counter and grabbed an overflowing trash bag, thrusting it toward him. "You’re good for nothing, you know that? Can’t even keep this place clean! Take this out. Now!"

Rad hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag. He wanted to argue, to say that he’d just gotten home, that he hadn’t even had time to set his stuff down. But the words died in his throat. He reached out and took the trash bag instead, its contents shifting with a squelching sound as he lifted it.

"Okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t mumble at me," she snapped, retreating to the couch and lighting another cigarette. "And don’t take all day about it! You hear me?" Rad nodded, his jaw clenched as he turned toward the door. The bag’s weight dragged at his arm, and he tried to hold it as far from his body as possible to avoid the worst of the smell.

The walk to the trash chute was short but felt endless. Each step was weighed down not just by the heavy bag but by the heavier burden of his mom’s words, the way they cut into him like tiny, invisible blades. He dumped the trash with a hollow thud, the bag disappearing into the chute with a grim finality. As he made his way back to the apartment, Rad lingered in the hallway for a moment, staring at the peeling wallpaper and flickering light above. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought back the stinging sensation building behind his eyes.

Just get through it, he told himself. She’ll stop yelling eventually. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open again, stepping back into the suffocating confines of his home. His mom didn’t even look up from the couch as he passed her, muttering under her breath about how long he’d taken. Rad headed back to the kitchen, his gaze falling on the dirty dishes waiting for him. He let out a quiet sigh and rolled up his sleeves. His hands moved automatically, scrubbing and rinsing, but his mind wandered.

One day, he thought to himself, staring out the grimy kitchen window at the neon-lit streets beyond. One day, I’m gonna get out of here. I don’t know how, but I will. The sound of running water and clinking dishes filled the silence, drowning out his mom’s muttered complaints in the background. Long after finishing the dishes, Rad sat on his bed, the thin mattress sagging beneath him. The room around him was sparse, a reflection of the neglect that clung to everything in this small apartment.

The walls were bare, save for the peeling remnants of old, faded wallpaper. Dust clung to the corners of the room, and a faint musty smell filled the air, mingling with the stale scent of fast-food wrappers that had gathered on his desk. The lone light overhead flickered intermittently, casting long, wavering shadows that made the room feel even smaller than it was.

His desk was cluttered with crumpled papers, old textbooks, and a few broken pens. While an old half-open laptop sat in the middle, its screen dimly glowing in the darkness. But despite the tools in front of him, Rad couldn’t bring himself to focus. The assignment sat untouched on the page in front of him, a math problem, a simple set of equations that were far too difficult for him to navigate tonight.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the fog in his brain, but it lingered. Why is this so hard? he thought, a feeling of frustration bubbling up. He glanced at the old clock on the wall. I’m already running late…

Rad's eyes flicked back to the laptop screen, trying to force his mind to concentrate. But the numbers and formulas seemed to blur into one endless stream, like a foreign language he couldn’t understand no matter how hard he tried. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but every time he tried to type, his thoughts wandered again.

He thought about Kite. Kite always made things look easy. Rad could picture him in his mind, grinning, confident, always breezing through homework like it was nothing. His mind was sharp, quick, and full of answers, always moving in ways that Rad couldn’t quite keep up with. How does he do it? Rad thought, a dull ache in his chest. He never struggles like this. He just gets it. He doesn't even have to think, he just... knows.

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A memory flashed into his mind, the day Kite had helped him in class, covering for him when he had gotten a question wrong. It was a small thing, really, but it had meant so much to Rad. That moment when Kite hadn’t let him look stupid in front of the class, when Kite had made sure no one saw his mistake. He hadn't even hesitated. He just did it, like it was natural.

But here, in this room, with nothing but the silence and his mounting frustration, Rad felt small. The weight of the world felt heavier than ever. His mom's harsh words echoed in his ears, her constant demands, her impatience. He could still feel the sting of her yelling; the relentless way she treated him like he was invisible unless he was doing something wrong. She doesn’t get it, he thought bitterly. She doesn’t care. None of them do.

Kite would have probably finished his homework by now. He would have already knocked it out, gone to hang out with Ava, maybe even gotten a few more ideas for some crazy new project he was building. Meanwhile I’d still be sitting here, stuck, staring at the page. Rad thought with a twisted bitterness.

He sighed and glanced back at the assignment. His head pounded with the weight of the equations, the numbers slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers. The frustration boiled inside him, growing faster than the progress he was making.

Rad slammed his fist down on the desk with a sharp crack, the sound ringing in the empty room. It didn’t help. It never helped. The frustration just built up more, making the work seem even more impossible.

Why can’t I be like him? Rad wondered. Why can’t I just… He bit his lip, looking around the room again, and it felt like everything was closing in on him, the pressure from school, the tension from his mom, the constant sense that no matter how hard he tried, he would always fall short. I’ll never be as good as him. The thought sat heavy in his chest, bitter and painful.

He wanted to just walk away from it all, to escape. But where would he go? He had nowhere else to be, no place that was any better than this.

With a huff of frustration, Rad slumped back against the headboard of his bed, dropping the pen in his hand onto the floor. He stared at the ceiling, the darkened corners of the room suddenly feeling like they were closing in. Why does it always feel so much harder for me?

The light from the laptop screen reflected off his face, the faint glow casting strange shadows across his features. But the glow felt cold, distant. His hands twitched, the muscles in his fingers sore from the tension in his body, his mind still racing.

It was hard, so much harder than it should have been. But all Rad could think about was how effortlessly Kite seemed to glide through life, how everything seemed to come naturally to him while Rad struggled to make even the smallest amount of progress. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this.

Rad’s breath hitched, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down harder with each passing second. His body was tense, his fists clenched at his sides as he lay on the bare mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it only made the pain worse.

Maybe I’m just not cut out for this. The thought seemed to echo in the quiet of the room, louder than the soft hum of the broken lamp above him. He blinked rapidly, trying to will himself to stop thinking like this, but the words clung to his mind like a heavy fog. Every minute that passed, the suffocating weight of his failure seemed to press down on him more, tightening like a vise around his chest.

He closed his eyes, a futile attempt to escape the feeling that was slowly consuming him. But it didn’t help. Nothing ever helped. There was nothing in this room to comfort him, no escape from the harshness of his own thoughts. The pain in his chest didn’t go away. It only grew, creeping further until it was all-consuming.

And then, as if in slow motion, a tear escaped from the corner of his eye, tracing a slow, shaky path down his cheek. His throat tightened, a sob threatening to break free. But he bit his lip, hard, willing himself to stop.

Don’t cry. Don’t make any noise, he told himself. The last thing he wanted was for his mom to come in and see him like this, weak and broken. The thought of her wrath, of the way she’d twist his feelings into something to blame him for, made his stomach churn. He could already hear her voice in his head, mocking him, telling him to suck it up. That crying was for the weak.

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. He wiped at the tear with the back of his hand, trying to hide it. But it didn’t stop. Another one followed, then another, as the dam that he had so carefully built in his chest began to crack. His whole body trembled with the effort to hold it in, but it was no use. The tears came anyway, silently, falling into the pillow beneath his head.

Rad turned his face into the worn fabric of the pillow, muffling the sound of his quiet sobs. His body shook with the effort of keeping everything inside. His shoulders curled inward as though he could shrink away from the world, from everything that was weighing down on him.

His chest heaved with the silent sobs, every breath feeling like it was being dragged through his lungs, slow and painful. I can’t do this, he thought bitterly. I’m not enough.

The words kept repeating themselves in his mind. His fingers clenched into the pillow beneath his head, trying to grip something, anything, that could make the pain stop. But there was nothing.

He felt utterly alone, surrounded by the silence of his room and the emptiness that filled it. The only sound was the soft rasp of his breath and the muffled sniffles as he tried to compose himself, to stop crying before his mother could hear.

But the tears wouldn’t stop. They kept coming, despite everything he tried to do to push them back, despite the fear of what might happen if she found out. His mom’s voice echoed in his head again, sharp and cruel, telling him that this was all his fault. That he was weak. That he wasn’t worth anything.

You’re nothing but a burden, Rad. The tears fell faster now, hot and stinging as they pooled into the pillow. His body trembled with the effort to hold everything in, but the ache was unbearable. The world felt heavy and suffocating, like he was drowning under the weight of everything, his mom’s expectations, his own failures, the gap between him and everyone else.

I just want to be good enough. I want to matter. The thought was desperate, a small flicker of hope that felt as distant as the stars.

But it was all too much. The weight, the frustration, the loneliness, Rad couldn’t fight it anymore. He let it all go, the tears coming in waves, each one breaking over him like a crashing tide.

His chest heaved with the force of his sobs, but he tried to keep them quiet, trying to stifle the sound before his mom would hear. His bed, his small, sad little space, was the only refuge he had now, the only place where he could fall apart without facing the wrath of the world outside. But even here, in the dark silence, it felt like he was drowning.

Rad’s body trembled with the force of his quiet sobs, each breath sharp and ragged, as though the very air he inhaled was weighted with something too heavy to carry. The tears kept falling, the hot streaks running down his face, staining the pillow beneath him. His chest ached, his heart seemed to stutter with each sob, and he felt like he couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of it all.

I’m not enough. I’m just not enough.

The words kept running through his mind like a broken record, repeating over and over again. He wanted to scream, wanted to shout out all the frustration and hurt that had been building up inside him for so long, but he couldn’t. Not in this house. Not with his mom just a few rooms away, listening for any sign of weakness.

His small, cramped room felt even more isolating now, the walls closing in on him. It was the same room he’d grown up in, the same space that held the remnants of a broken childhood, a few scattered toys from years ago, a mismatched dresser, and the old bed he never bothered to change the sheets on. There was no comfort here, no warmth, just the cold, unfeeling walls that had always been a silent witness to his struggles.

I don’t belong here, he thought desperately, though he couldn’t say where here even was anymore. His life felt like a blurry mess of bad days, regret, and the slow grind of survival. Nothing seemed to matter.

Rad turned his head, pressing his face deeper into the pillow to stifle the sound of his crying. His throat was raw, his chest tight, and the tears kept coming, even as he tried to force himself to breathe through it. The noise of his sobs was muffled against the fabric, but it didn’t change the crushing weight of his emotions.

Why can’t I be like Kite? The thought stung, a raw ache deep in his gut. Why can’t I just be better at everything?

Kite, who could do everything so easily, who seemed to glide through school and life, while Rad struggled to even get through one day without breaking down. Kite, who had friends like Ava, who cared about him, who had a family that seemed to actually care.

Rad’s mom, on the other hand, wasn’t the kind of person who would worry about him. She barely even noticed him most of the time unless he was in her way or failing at something. He wasn’t even worth a second glance unless it was to shout at him for something he’d forgotten to do.

The thought of her hurt, but it didn’t make him angry anymore. It didn’t surprise him, either. He was used to it by now. He was used to being invisible, to never being good enough for anyone. He wasn’t even good enough for himself.

The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity, as Rad lay there, letting the tears flow, letting the raw pain wash over him. He didn't know how long it had been, but it felt like hours, the heavy weight of his sorrow sinking him deeper into the mattress. He could still hear the faint sounds of his mom moving around downstairs, the occasional clatter of dishes and the low murmur of her voice.

But in his room, there was only silence, broken by the quiet sobs that he couldn’t contain. There was no comfort in the silence, no reprieve from the pain. He was alone, and the only thing that could keep him together now was the hope that his mom wouldn't come up to yell at him. He couldn’t bear it. Not now. Not when he felt this broken.

Rad wiped his eyes one more time, his sleeve damp from the tears. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down, but the ache in his chest wouldn’t let up. He knew there was no escaping it, no way to stop the tide of emotions that had crashed over him. All he could do was try to breathe, try to quiet the storm inside of him and lie there in the silence. Clutching the pillow close to his chest and hoping the world outside didn’t come crashing down on him too soon as he drifted off to sleep.