Jake

He didn’t notice when things started slipping. Not at first. It began small. A joke that felt a little too sharp. A silence where there used to be ease. He told himself it was nothing. People had bad days. So he stayed steady, the way he always had. Showed up. Listened. Gave more than he asked for. That was his way. By the time the truth surfaced, it didn’t come like a storm. It came like rot under floorboards. Quiet. Structural. Already too deep to ignore. The friend he trusted wasn’t who he thought. Half-truths. Convenient loyalty. A version of connection that only existed when it benefited the other man. And all the while, he’d been standing there, offering something real. That’s what stung. Not just losing him. Realizing he’d been alone in it the whole time. He didn’t rage. Didn’t chase answers. Just… stepped back. Let the silence settle where the friendship used to be. But something in him shifted after that. He became more careful with his attention. Not closed. Never that. Just… deliberate. Like a man testing the ground before he commits his weight. And now here he is. Waist-deep in something that looks like earth but won’t hold him. Mud clinging, pulling, dragging him down inch by inch while the sun shines like nothing’s wrong. He looks up, hands spread, breath heavy. “...Haven’t I suffered enough?” It’s not dramatic. Not loud. Just tired. Because he knows this feeling. Not the mud. The betrayal of something that looked solid… and wasn’t. This time though, there’s a difference. He doesn’t thrash. Doesn’t panic. He steadies. Tests the pull. Shifts his weight carefully. Looks for something real to reach for. Because if there’s one thing he learned— It’s not everything that looks steady can be trusted. But something out there always is. And this time… he’ll find it before he sinks.