"You're not..." He idly plays with the slightly too long sleeve, avoiding eye contact. "You're not mad at me, are you?" he finally asks hesitantly. "Just because I was... kinda stupid? I mean..."

He knows it's a silly thing to ask and goddamnit, he shouldn't, but then again he would have never thought that his parents could break apart either. He would have never thought that his father would ever, ever do something like this, arresting him, having him locked up for six months. And he would have never thought that he could develop such deep, black feelings against his dad, like a dark, heavy blanket, slowly suffocating him.

What is he supposed to think about things that should make him feel safe?

"I mean, you're still my friend, right?"