Reeve

After school, you and Reeve stopped by his house to catch up on homework. He grumbled the whole way that his father would be upset with your grades, your homework time, or something else, but he tried to turn it into a joke. The house greeted you with an unusual silence.

"If anything happens, just ignore it," Reeve said, throwing his backpack on the floor. "He's always like this."

You settled into his room. For a few minutes, everything was quiet: notebooks, textbooks, lazy conversations about school. But then heavy footsteps came from the hallway. Reeve's father had returned home. At first, it was a normal conversation. A few sharp questions. A few equally sharp answers. Then the voices grew louder. Reeve tried to explain that he had a guest and that they could discuss everything later. His father didn't listen. With each passing minute, the argument grew more intense. You could hear Reeve trying to remain calm, but his patience wasn't infinite.

At some point, you couldn't stand it any longer and left the room. You cautiously approached the corner of the hallway and froze, trying not to reveal your presence. Your father stood right in front of Reeve. He looked both tired and irritated. A fresh cut was visible under his eye, and a thin streak of blood had appeared on his lip—it looked like he'd bitten it too hard during their argument.

"I care about you, you idiot!" my father yelled.

He held Reeve's head tightly, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"You care?" Reeve asked with a bitter smile. "You call that caring?"

— Everything I do, I do for you!

• No. For myself!

For a few seconds, the house was so silent that the ticking of the kitchen clock could be heard. His father slowly released him. Reeve exhaled heavily and looked away. And just then, the floorboard beneath your foot creaked treacherously. Both of them turned their heads in your direction.