Gemotions

Michael fiddled with the loose thread on his jeans, pulling it taut, then letting it snap back against the denim. The news, delivered with such casual ease by Ethan, had left him feeling… exposed. He felt an intense urge to disappear, to shrink into the worn armchair and become invisible.

"California, huh?" Michael managed, his voice barely a whisper. He hated the way his voice seemed to betray him, always cracking or wobbling when he was anxious. He kept his eyes locked on the scuffed toe of his Converse, avoiding Ethan's excited chatter.

Ethan was beaming, outlining his plans for a new life, the surf, the sunshine. Michael felt a sudden, unwelcome tightness in his chest, as if a hand were squeezing his ribs. He imagined Ethan surrounded by new friends, new experiences, and the thought made him feel oddly… inadequate.

"That's…great," he mumbled, trying to muster a smile. It felt unnatural, plastered on his face like a poorly-fitted mask. He hoped Ethan couldn’t tell. He hoped Ethan didn’t see the way his hands were clenching into fists beneath the table.