Shir wanted to be left alone. He's long since known what he'd be told, yet he tried Time and Time again.
And despite being a writer, words have long since failed him.
Or perhaps he was the one who failed them.
It seemed to be all he could do right.
More than anything did he want someone to listen, and understand.
He oft did the same for others, because he knew the desire. The need.
It was never reciprocated.
No one really wanted to listen.
Nash had been talking shit, and let it slip by accident. He would then play it off as nothing. As irrelevant.
Shir laughed.
Daven tried to help in the most unhelpful ways possible. Shir wasn't his friend. Wasn't someone he respected nor believed in. Didn't have any weight to his name.
Then there was his partner who never had his back.
Who was always telling him he was wrong, while becoming exasperated by his frustration and lack of faith and confidence.
He hated them all.
And yet he wanted them to be there. To understand. To be actual friends.
But they weren't. And it wouldn't be fair to change them.
So he left.
He left and sat by himself. Hummed mindless tunes, and drew his knees to his chest that he could fit in the cardboard box in the back of his closet.
He closed the flaps, and listened to his shallow breaths in the small dark space, comforted.
"It's okay."
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