Morning came like a weight pressing on his chest.
Arin moved through the house quietly, careful, as if any sound might break the fragile peace around him. The familiar voices, the clatter of breakfast, the warmth of family—none of it touched him. It was like standing outside a window, watching life unfold without him.
And deep down, beneath the quiet acceptance, there was something colder: fear.
The fear that he wasn't just ignored—he was optional. And one day, they might realize they didn't need him at all.
The thought followed him like a shadow as he stepped out the door alone.
The arcade wasn't far, but the walk felt endless. His breath was shallow, his mind restless. Was he running from something or toward something? He couldn't tell. He only knew he didn't want to feel invisible today.
When he stepped inside the dim arcade, the world shifted. The glow of screens, the hum of machines—here, no one cared who he was. The games didn't measure worth by smiles or grades. They asked only for his hands, his focus, his heart.
For the first time in so long, he wasn't optional.
He existed.
Each game pulled him deeper. His fingers found rhythm, his mind found quiet. The fear didn't vanish, but for a little while, it softened—faded into the background like a bad dream.
When the sun sank low, painting the sky in gold, Arin stepped back into the real world. The fear returned, quietly settling back into place. But something small inside him had shifted. A spark. A thought.
Maybe here… maybe somewhere… I matter.