The front door rattled when Eric slammed it shut. The sound cut through the quiet night, sharp and loud—but Carl didn't move.
He stood in the middle of the living room, still holding a cup that had long gone cold. His chest rose and fell like he'd just run a marathon.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was scared.
Scared of what he was feeling.
Scared of something inside him he couldn't control.
But he still let Eric go.
Carl pressed his palm to his forehead, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
---
Outside, Eric walked fast, but every step felt heavy, like mud clinging to his feet. His eyes burned. He didn't want to cry, but the sting behind his eyelids was already there.
He didn't understand.
Not at all.
Clara suddenly distant.
The bracelet broken.
Carl discarding him like he never mattered.
All in one day.
Eric reached his car but didn't get in right away. He stood there, hands clenched, trembling just slightly.
"What did I do wrong…?" His voice cracked, barely audible.
He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, but the ache stayed, pressing hard against his chest.
He got into the car, placed the broken bracelet on the dashboard, and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes squeezed shut.
One sentence echoed in his head, over and over.
"I never even considered you a friend."
It felt like he'd been crushed under someone's foot.
He could've handled Carl being angry.
He could've handled Carl being harsh.
But that sentence—that sentence killed him quietly.
Eric had spent his whole life trying to feel accepted. And Carl knew that. Somewhere along the way, Eric had almost forgotten that he'd originally tried to get close to them because of the mission. Now the mission and his feelings were tangled together, eating him alive.
Eric swallowed, his throat burning.
"If that's how it is… then I don't need to exist in your life," he whispered, like a promise to himself.
He started the engine and drove off.
He didn't look back.
The house went dark once his car disappeared.
---
Inside, Carl finally noticed his hands were shaking.
He let go of the cup.
Glass shattered across the floor.
He didn't bend down to pick it up.
He just stood there, frozen.
"Good," he muttered, trying to convince himself.
But his chest hurt like he'd stabbed himself instead.
He didn't know if he felt relieved that Eric was gone… or if he'd just pushed away someone he actually—
He cut the thought off immediately.
"Don't start, Carl," he snapped at himself.
He turned off the living room lights and went to his bedroom, leaving the broken bracelet on the table.
He didn't dare touch it.
---
Eric sat on a wooden chair, head lowered, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had almost gone cold. His eyes were slightly red—not from lack of sleep, but from the pressure still boiling inside him.
Liam stood in front of him, legs crossed, expression serious but steady. Noah sat at the table, arms folded, watching Eric with concern edged by firmness.
"It's just the three of us for now," Liam began, his voice low but clear. "Jay can't come along yet. He needs rest, and we need to make sure he's okay."
Eric nodded slowly, his chest tight. He knew they were right, but his emotions were still a mess. Since last night—since Clara's message and the fight with Carl—it felt like his world had flipped upside down. Everything he thought was solid suddenly felt fragile.
Noah spoke next, firmer this time. "Tomorrow, we do what needs to be done. But right now, you need to focus, Eric. Don't let this mess with your head. Don't let your emotions take over."
Eric took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But his thoughts kept spiraling—Clara asking for space out of nowhere, Carl's sharp words, and… Jay. The weight in his chest deepened thinking about Jay's pregnancy, about how Jay couldn't handle any extra stress right now. Every decision Eric made had consequences, and sometimes he wondered if he was strong enough to carry all of it.
"Okay… I'll try to focus," Eric said quietly. His voice was rough, almost hoarse.
He knew they weren't talking just to lecture him. They cared. He needed that. He just hated showing weakness in front of them, even when his emotions were too heavy to hide.
Liam stepped closer and gave Eric's shoulder a light pat. "Good. Remember, work first. Everything else can be dealt with later."
Liam's smile wasn't big, but it was enough to ease Eric's chest a little. Liam had always been like that—calm, grounded, someone Eric could lean on when the world felt unstable.
Noah leaned forward slightly, meeting Eric's eyes. "You know we get how you feel. But right now, you need to focus on the next step. Not what already happened. Not what people said."
Eric exhaled deeply. He knew the advice was right, but his heart still felt heavy. There was guilt too—for letting last night get to him this much. Still, he tried to push it all aside. Jay needed him steady. Clara and Carl had complicated things, but that wasn't something he could fix right now.
What he could do was stay calm, protect Jay, and make sure everyone who mattered stayed safe.
"Alright… I understand," Eric said at last. His voice was steadier now, even if the emotion hadn't fully left.
He set the mug down and sat up straighter, pulling himself back together piece by piece. Liam and Noah exchanged a brief glance, then shared a faint smile. They knew—this was just the beginning. Eric needed time, but at least he was trying.
The night remained quiet.
Not because everything was resolved, but because Eric knew one thing for sure—
He wasn't alone.
Liam and Noah were still there. And for Jay, who couldn't be here right now, Eric would stay strong. For all of them.