Shadowy Love

Miles Morales leaned back in his chair, the worn leather creaking beneath him, an echo of the fatigue that coursed through his body. Alone in the dim light of his room, he allowed himself a moment of solitude, though the stillness felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. He had reluctantly invited his friends over for a sleepover—an obligation driven by Pavitr’s hopeful insistence, but the mere thought of engaging in lighthearted fun felt suffering 

Pav, Mylo, and Ganke brought warmth and laughter, but their smiles were like daggers, reminding him of the joy that slipped through his fingers like sand. Shadows loomed larger than life, eclipsing the moments of light with memories of loss and grief that threatened to swallow him whole. Each thought of his mother’s laughter, his father’s reassuring embrace, and his uncle’s protective presence was a reminder of the void left behind—a gaping wound that never seemed to heal.

Staring at the ceiling, he felt the familiar darkness creep in, an insidious presence that wrapped around his thoughts like a vice. **Suicide.** The word echoed in his mind, heavy and suffocating, a reminder of the despair that lurked just beneath the surface. He clenched his fists, trying to fight off the tremors that threatened to overtake him, but the struggle felt futile. He couldn’t leave Pav, Mylo, and Ganke. He had sworn an unspoken oath to protect them from the shadows that threatened to consume him.

As he tapped his foot anxiously against the floor, the rhythm a desperate attempt to ground himself, he felt the tears threatening to spill over. Each shaky breath felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the emotions he fought so hard to keep at bay. No, he couldn’t show weakness. Not now, not when his friends were so blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing inside him.

A few moments later, the door swung open, and familiar laughter spilled into the room like sunshine breaking through the clouds. Their joy felt like a foreign language, one he longed to understand but could only observe from a distance. Pavitr entered first, his bright smile a beacon that illuminated the darkness Miles felt within. But that light, so pure and warm, often felt blinding—a painful reminder of everything he had lost and everything that felt forever out of reach.

“Hey, Smiley! Ready for some fun?” Gwen’s voice broke through his reverie, her playful grin a stark contrast to the weight in his chest. “Truth, Dare, or Drink?” she proposed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Here we go again,” Hobie huffed, rolling his eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging up in an involuntary grin. The rest of the group nodded eagerly, their excitement palpable, but Miles could only nod along, feeling like a ghost among the living, laughter echoing around him yet fading into the background like static.

“Hey, Smiley, are you okay?” Pav’s voice cut through the noise, concern etched on his face as he stood beside Miles, his hand resting gently on his back. It felt both grounding and suffocating—a reminder of the care he was desperate to return but felt unworthy of.

“Yeah,” Miles replied, his voice strained, the word barely a whisper. It tasted bitter on his tongue, a lie he forced himself to accept.

“Miles…” Pav’s tone shifted, serious now, piercing through the veil he had draped over his emotions. It had been a while since he had addressed Miles so directly, and it sent a wave of unease through him. “What’s really going on?”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he mumbled, the words slipping out weakly, each syllable an anchor pulling him deeper into despair.

“Swear on what exactly?” Pav pressed, his eyes searching for something beneath Miles’ facade, something he was terrified to reveal.

“Don’t do this,” Miles said, feeling the vulnerability clawing at him, threatening to unravel the fragile tapestry of his resolve. He didn’t want to pull Pav into his darkness, especially not in front of their friends who remained blissfully unaware of the chaos that lurked within him.

“No, Miles, I need you to talk to me,” Pav whispered, leaning closer, the intensity of his gaze demanding honesty Miles wasn’t ready to give.

“Not now,” Miles said, his heart racing as he glanced around at their friends, still engaged in playful banter and laughter. The thought of sharing his pain felt like a betrayal to their joy.

“I’ll talk to you later, I promise,” he said, desperation threading through his words like a lifeline, one he feared would snap at any moment.

In that moment, while everyone else was distracted, Pav leaned down, wrapping his arms around Miles’ neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you, Smiley,” he murmured, the words wrapping around Miles like a lifeline. 

Miles held Pav’s hands gently, the warmth of his touch both comforting and overwhelming. “I don’t think you can even begin to realize how much I love you, Pavi,” Miles admitted, feeling the weight of his emotions threaten to spill over. “You don’t—no, can’t even begin to imagine how grounded you’re keeping me. Your touch… your soft kisses… you, in general. God, the things I would’ve done if you weren’t here…” His voice trailed off, the unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air.

Pav’s expression shifted from joy to concern, and he searched Miles’ eyes for answers. “What do you mean by that?”

Miles looked away, his heart pounding. “I don’t want to drag you into my darkness, Pavi. You deserve light. You deserve happiness.” The words felt like a betrayal to himself, the irony stinging like salt on an open wound.

“Are you kidding me? You are my light, Miles,” Pav insisted, squeezing his hands tighter, but the grip felt too tight—like a lifeline pulling him from the abyss, yet he was still so close to the edge. “You’re the reason I wake up every day with a smile. I can’t just sit here while you fight this alone.”

But as much as Miles wanted to believe that, he felt the overwhelming weight of his sorrow creeping back in. “But what if I can’t fight anymore?” Miles murmured, tears stinging his eyes. “What if I’m just too tired to keep pretending?”

Pav’s expression softened, brushing his thumb against Miles’ cheek, but that small gesture only intensified the storm inside him. “Then we fight together. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone in this.”

Miles swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier. “You don’t understand,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I feel like I’m drowning in this darkness, and I don’t want to pull you down with me. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

The laughter around them felt like a distant echo, a cruel reminder of the joy that felt forever out of reach. His friends shared smiles and inside jokes, oblivious to the storm raging within him. Each chuckle and cheer cut through him like a blade, each shared moment of happiness a painful reminder of the isolation he felt inside.

Ganke, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke up, his voice steady. “We’re all here for you, Miles. You’ve supported us through everything. It’s our turn to support you now.”

“Yeah, man,” Mylo added, his voice earnest. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone. We’ve got your back.”

Hobie nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. “That’s what friends are for, mate. We stick together, no matter how dark it gets.”

Miles looked around at his friends, feeling the warmth of their unwavering support, but he felt like an imposter in their midst, the very thought of revealing his pain too overwhelming. Why can’t I just be okay? Why can’t I just feel happy like everyone else?

“Thank you,” he whispered, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. But the gratitude felt tainted by guilt. “But I’m scared. I don’t want to be this burden, this weight on your shoulders.”

“Then let us help you,” Pav said softly, brushing his lips against Miles’ forehead, grounding him against the tide of despair. But even that comfort felt fragile, like a thin veil over a vast chasm of pain.

Yet, as the night wore on, the laughter returned, but it felt hollow. The joy around him seemed to mock the agony he felt inside. Each game played felt like a reminder of the happiness he could never grasp, the laughter of his friends ringing in his ears while his heart felt like it was breaking.

When it was finally his turn, dread pooled in his stomach like a heavy stone. The room felt too bright, the smiles too wide, and he felt himself shrinking further into his own skin. He wanted to participate, to be part of this moment, but the darkness weighed him down, a chain tethering him to his sorrow.

“Truth, Dare, or Drink, Miles?” Gwen asked, her tone playful yet probing, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

Miles glanced at Pav, who nodded encouragingly, though the concern in his eyes was unmistakable. “Truth,” Miles said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, the admission carrying the weight of his heartache.

Gwen leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “What’s the one thing you’ve never told us?”

A beat of silence followed, tension thickening the air. Miles could feel Pav’s eyes on him, urging him to share, but his throat tightened, choked by the fear of vulnerability. The truth he had kept buried felt like

“I sometimes think about… ending it all,” he finally whispered, the confession barely escaping his lips. The words hung in the air like a detonated bomb, shattering the atmosphere of lightheartedness. The room fell silent, laughter dying in an instant, leaving only the echo of his dark admission.

“Miles,” Pav breathed, shock and horror etched across his face. “What… why would you think that?”

The piercing concern in Pav’s eyes felt like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters, yet Miles felt himself drowning instead. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice trembling. “Sometimes it just feels like the pain is too much, like I’m drowning in it. I can’t keep pretending to be okay when everything inside me feels like it’s falling apart.”

His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet Pav’s eyes. He could feel the weight of their friends’ stares, a mix of confusion and concern, but the collective anxiety swirling around him only deepened his sense of isolation. “I don’t want to burden you with my darkness,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You all deserve happiness, and I feel like a weight dragging you down.”

“Burden? Miles, you could never be a burden!” Ganke exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. “You’ve always been there for us. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“We love you, man,” Mylo added, stepping closer. “You’re our friend. You’re part of our family. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

But even as they spoke, a cold, creeping dread settled over Miles. He wanted to believe them, wanted to embrace their support, but the shadows felt too suffocating. “You don’t understand. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle every single day,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “I see the way you all laugh and enjoy life, and I can’t help but feel like an outsider looking in. I feel so broken. I don’t want to ruin your happiness with my pain.”

Pav’s expression hardened, and he reached out to Miles, his grip firm but gentle. “Miles, please listen to me,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re hurting, and that matters. You don’t have to put on a brave face for us. We want to help you carry that weight.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Miles said, his voice rising in frustration, the tears streaming down his cheeks now. “I don’t want you to see how weak I am.”

“You’re not weak for feeling this way!” Pav urged, desperation creeping into his tone. “It’s okay to struggle. We all do. But shutting us out won’t help you. We can’t support you if you don’t let us in.”

Miles turned away, the lump in his throat growing heavier. He felt exposed, like a raw nerve laid bare for everyone to see. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he choked out, his heart racing as panic set in. The thought of opening up about the darkness that consumed him felt terrifying, as if he would be stepping into an abyss he might never escape.

Gwen spoke up, her voice softer now, laced with understanding. “Miles, we care about you. We’re not here to judge or fix you; we’re here to listen. If you need time, that’s okay. But please don’t suffer in silence. We can’t help you if we don’t know what you’re going through.”

The sincerity in her voice pierced through his wall of fear, but the heaviness in his heart remained. How could he put his pain into words when the very thought felt like an impossible task? How could he articulate the darkness that felt like it was strangling him?

“Miles,” Pav whispered, his voice gentle, yet filled with an urgency that made Miles’ heart ache. “You don’t have to carry this alone. Please just let us in.”

Tears streamed down Miles’ face as he fought against the tide of despair. He felt so lost, so overwhelmed by the darkness that loomed over him. What if they saw him for who he truly was? What if they realized he was too broken to be saved?

“Just… give me a minute,” he finally managed to say, his voice trembling as he turned away from the group, pressing his palms against his eyes to halt the flow of tears. The room felt stifling, the laughter from moments before now a distant memory.

He heard shuffling as his friends exchanged concerned glances, the weight of their worry settling over him like a thick fog. But even amidst their care, the loneliness clawed at his insides, leaving him feeling like a ghost in his own life.

“Miles,” Pav’s voice broke through the haze, drawing closer. “I’m right here. You don’t have to face this alone. Just breathe, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

For a fleeting moment, Miles felt the warmth of Pav’s presence seep into his soul, but the shadows remained, lurking just out of sight. He took a shaky breath, trying to quell the rising tide of despair, but it felt like a bandage over a gaping wound—nothing could truly stop the bleeding.

As he turned back to face his friends, he forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the mask slipping back into place. “I’m okay,” he lied, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. The darkness that clung to him felt suffocating, an inescapable truth he couldn’t voice.

Gwen’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face. “If you ever want to talk, we’re here. No pressure, just know that we care about you, Miles.”

Miles nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Gwen.”

And as the game continued, Miles plastered on a smile, playing his part, but inside he felt the turmoil swirling like a storm. The laughter echoed around him, but it felt distant, a melody he couldn’t quite grasp.

As the night wore on, he watched his friends enjoying the moment, laughter spilling from their lips like sunlight, but in that brightness, he felt only the cold shadow of his own despair. He smiled when he was supposed to, joined in the laughter, but every chuckle felt like a mask over the pain that churned inside him.

In the silence that followed each round of the game, Miles found himself lost in thought, the shadows creeping back in. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a burden, that his friends were better off without him dragging them down into his darkness. As he sat there, surrounded by laughter and light, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of his own sorrow—silent, suffering, and utterly alone.