WHERE I BREATHE
499 Words
Evenings were Damon’s favorite time of day.
Not because they were exciting ,but because they were quiet.
After dinner, the house settled into its usual rhythm. His mother retreated to her room, the television murmured softly in the background, and the walls seemed to breathe. Damon liked that. Noise asked questions. Silence didn’t.
He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto the chair. His room was simple and neat but not forced. A desk by the window, books stacked properly, shoes lined up like soldiers. Everything had a place. Control mattered to him.
His phone buzzed.
Mason: You alive?
Damon smirked and typed back.
Damon: Barely.
Ten minutes later, Mason was already outside, leaning against the gate like he owned the place. Damon slipped on his sneakers and stepped out, locking the door behind him.
They walked without direction, hands in pockets, shoulders brushing occasionally. No rush. No destination. Just movement.
“You ever notice,” Mason said suddenly, “how people think you’re angry all the time?”
Damon didn’t answer right away. He kicked a stone down the road and watched it disappear into the dark.
“I don’t correct them,” he said finally.
Mason laughed softly. “Of course you don’t.”
They stopped at their usual spot ,a quiet corner near an abandoned field. It wasn’t special. It was just theirs.
Mason sat on the low fence. “You don’t talk much at home.”
Damon leaned beside him. “There’s nothing to say.”
“That’s not true,” Mason replied. “You just don’t like needing people.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. Mason always did that and said things like they were facts, not opinions.
Needing people had never ended well for him. He learned early that relying too much meant disappointment came harder.
“I’m fine,” Damon said.
“I know,” Mason replied. “You’re always ‘fine.’”
The wind brushed past them, cool and steady. Damon stared ahead, eyes distant. At school, he wore confidence like armor. At home, he carried responsibility. Out here with Mason he didn’t have to pretend as much.
“You ever think about leaving?” Mason asked.
“Sometimes,” Damon admitted. “But not yet.”
There were things tying him down. Expectations. Promises. Unspoken duties.
Mason nodded. “Yeah. Same.”
They stayed there until the night deepened, talking about nothing and everything. plans that might never happen, jokes that only made sense to them, memories from years ago that still lingered.
When Damon finally headed back home, the house welcomed him with its familiar silence.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head.
People thought they understood him.
They didn’t know the discipline it took to stay composed.
They didn’t know the weight he carried quietly.
They didn’t know how carefully he guarded his world.
And for now, that was exactly how Damon wanted it.
- Writer
