Rocco-s Pov 17 May 2026

He slid down the doorframe until he was sitting on the threadbare carpet. His room was a museum of a younger self: guitar picks that no longer inspired him, a half-finished model of a ’69 Charger, a stack of college brochures he hadn’t opened. Everyone kept asking, “What do you want to do with your life?” As if seventeen was supposed to be the answer and not the question itself.

He heard her hesitate on the other side of the door. For a terrible, hopeful second, he thought she might say something real. I’m scared for you. I miss you. You’re not your father. But she just sighed, her footsteps retreating down the hall. rocco-s pov 17

“Okay,” he said. His voice came out steady. That was another skill: the steady voice. The one that said I’m fine when his insides were a riot. He slid down the doorframe until he was