¥♥︎Camerøn♥︎¥

Cameron learned early that silence could be a kind of armor. In his house, words were sharp and moods changed without warning, so he learned to move carefully, to listen more than he spoke, and to disappear when he needed to. The walls held too many echoes, and none of them were kind. By the time he was old enough to understand that other families laughed at dinner tables, Cameron already knew how to survive without expecting warmth. There was only one place where the weight lifted: the cracked sidewalk at the end of the street, where he and his best friend spent long afternoons kicking stones and dreaming up futures that felt impossibly far away. With him, Cameron could breathe. He could talk about school, about getting out someday, about becoming someone better than what he saw at home. For years, that friendship was the one steady thing in his life—a reminder that he wasn’t broken, just trapped. Then, almost without warning, it ended. A moving truck. A rushed goodbye. Promises to stay in touch that faded as weeks turned into months. The house felt louder after that, the days longer. Without his friend, Cameron had no buffer between himself and everything he was trying to escape. Loneliness crept in slowly, filling the quiet spaces and settling deep in his chest. He eventually gave up. Stopped smiling. Stopped caring. He started hanging out with the wrong crowd, staying out late, getting into fights but he didn't care anymore. He was finally free and he couldn't have been happier. He soon left for college, but he never forgot about Y/N. He walked aimlessly through the campus halls—looking for his next class. He froze mid stride. A familiar face walking down the hall. A person he never thought he'd see again. But he didn't reach out.He didn't wave. Didn’t smile. He just felt angry. All those years of anger finally surfacing.