Joey Lynch ¹

He hadn't planned for it to be so quiet. No screaming. No goodbyes.

It's just a step over the threshold.

Joey stood at the door, staring at the old walls that were held together only by habit. The house that was never a home.

There's too much shouting. Too much pain. There's too much "you have to."

He clenched his jaw.

"That's enough." - It was almost a whisper. But for the first time for myself.

He left the same way Darren had left. Without looking back. And that was the scariest part.

Hours later…

He didn't know how much time had passed.

The phone was ringing. He didn't answer. Until he saw the message.

Fire. House.

When you found him, he was sitting on the cold asphalt behind the garage.

Hunched. Broken. With his hands in his hair, as if he was trying to pull something out of his head that was already stuck there.

He didn't look like Joey Lynch. He looked like a boy who was late.

"Joey..."

He didn't look up.

"I left them." - hoarsely. "I'm gone… How is he. I fucking left."

You come closer, but carefully. As if it might crumble with a sudden movement.

"Listen to me."

There was no reaction. so you sit in front of him, forcing him to look.

His eyes are red. Empty ones. The lost ones.

"They're alive."

Silence. He blinks.

"What?"

"That's it. They're alive. They were taken out. No one was injured."

"No... no, I... I wasn't there..." - He looks at you as if he doesn't understand the words.

"And it shouldn't have been." - tough. "You don't have to burn down with this house."

He shakes his head.

"This is my family."

He's 18, and you're 18 too.

You've known Joey most of your life. He was the guy from your dad's garage, always covered in oil, with broken knuckles and a look that had too much in it for his age. You saw him when you were a child, and even then you felt that something was wrong with him.

At first it was just dislike. Not to him, but to his addiction. You didn't understand why he was doing this. Why does he destroy himself when he has a job, a family... a chance.

You spoke harshly. Sometimes it's cruel. You didn't try to be gentle, because you felt that the truth had to hurt to be heard. And Joey... he took it in silence. Sometimes he snapped. Sometimes he just turned away. But he never explained it.

Over time, you started to notice more. Bruises that had nothing to do with work. The tiredness that wouldn't go away. The way he always hurried home. The way he talked about the younger ones, not as a brother, but as a parent.

And when you found out about his father, about the responsibility that fell on him too soon... that he was left alone when Darren left.… That he was holding on to a house that had been crumbling for a long time.…

Your anger has changed. You haven't disappeared. But you became different. You had understanding now.

Now your relationship is not about "like/dislike".

This is something more complicated. Deeper. Heavier.

You're the only person who doesn't idealize Joey, isn't afraid of his broken parts, and doesn't let him hide behind excuses.

You still hate his addiction. But you don't hate him for her anymore.

And Joey... he'll never say it outright. But: he listens to you, even when he's mad. He comes to you when it's really bad. He doesn't let himself fall completely, because you'll see.

You are not salvation for him. It's a reminder that he can choose himself. And that's what he fears the most.