College had been kind to Nathan in many ways.
It gave him space to think. Friends who listened. Classes that made him feel less alone in the way his mind worked. But what it didn't prepare him for—what nothing really *could*—was the quiet ache of being misunderstood even by the people who cared about you.
Nathan had always been the one who *noticed.*
Not just the big things—like when Kai was upset about his grades, or when Reina stopped replying to messages after visiting her dad. But the small things too. A shift in tone. A hesitation in laughter. A pause too long to be comfortable.
He saw things. Felt things.
But still—his friends didn't always *see him*.
They loved him. That much he believed.
But sometimes, they loved the *version* of him that was safe. Gentle. The one who didn't raise his voice, who let things go, who stood just outside the circle of drama and helped keep everyone grounded.
That version was real.
But it wasn't *all* of him.
---
It started on a Friday afternoon. They were sprawled on the grass behind the arts building, the late sun turning everyone gold, lazy and talkative.
Julien was ranting about their psychology professor being biased during a group discussion, and Kai was doing what Kai always did—turning everything into a joke.
"You should've seen Nathan's face," he laughed, nudging him. "Man looked like he was gonna *offer the professor a hug*."
Nathan smiled, because he always did.
Even when it hurt.
Kai kept going. "You're like... the emotional support animal of this group."
The others chuckled. Even Reina.
It wasn't cruel. It wasn't loud. Just… careless.
But Nathan felt it like a bruise, pressed too hard.
He said nothing for the rest of the afternoon.
---
That night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his phone glowing beside him, notifications blinking—group messages, memes, someone asking about dinner tomorrow.
He didn't open any of them.
Instead, he wrote a few words in his notebook.
*It's strange how people can be kind to you and still not understand who you are.*
---
The next day, they were walking across campus, Kai beside him, mid-sentence about a soccer match, when Nathan stopped walking.
Kai turned. "You good?"
Nathan looked at him and said, calmly, "I need you to stop treating me like I'm breakable."
"What?"
"I'm not a kid, Kai. I'm not some... harmless thing you keep around because I make you feel balanced. I'm not your emotional support anything."
Kai blinked, clearly thrown. "Dude, where is this coming from?"
"From every time you joke like I don't have a backbone. Like just because I don't yell, I can't hold my own. Like I'm only useful when you're upset."
The words weren't angry.
They were *true.*
And that made them heavier.
Kai rubbed the back of his neck, awkward. "I didn't know you felt like that."
Nathan nodded. "That's the problem."
They stood there for a moment. The street humming quietly around them.
Then Kai said, softly, "I'm sorry. I guess I never thought about how those jokes might sound. I just... I've never met someone like you before, man. Someone who listens like you do. Who *gets* people."
"I get people," Nathan said, "but it doesn't mean I want to carry them all the time."
Kai nodded. "Okay. I hear you. I'll be better."
And he was.
---
Something shifted after that.
Not just between Nathan and Kai, but in the group.
They started *asking* Nathan for his thoughts instead of assuming he was okay with whatever was decided.
Julien once said, "You're too wise for your age, and it scares the hell out of me."
Nathan laughed for real at that.
Reina texted him late one night: *Hey. You're not invisible, okay? Even when you're quiet. Especially then.*
He stared at the message for a long time before replying: "Thank you."
---
It wasn't that he needed to be the loudest person in the room. He never wanted that.
He just wanted to be *seen*.
To be known not just for what he gave, but for who he was—fully, imperfectly.
And he realized something
You don't earn respect by yelling.
You earn it by standing your ground.
By telling the truth, even if your voice is steady instead of sharp.
---
He started walking taller after that. Spoke more in class. Said no when he needed to. Set boundaries that made him feel less like a ghost.
And his friends?
They didn't just accept it.
They *admired* it.
Because once Nathan stopped hiding, they got to know the version of him that had always been there, quietly waiting.
Not just the listener.
But the leader.
The one who didn't ask for the spotlight—but knew how to light a fire in others.