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Jesus, this was painful.
“Hey, Gabe. Welcome.” Mike, ever the teacher, cleared his throat and took a step forward, trying to gently defuse the tension. “We were just wrapping up, but there’s still a few snacks left if you’re hungry. Come meet the group.”
Gabe barely looked at him, still locked in some kind of silent stare-off with Mateo.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching.
Mateo was usually the calm one. The guy who had a joke ready before things could get too heavy, the guy who handled nerves like a pro.
But then?
Inthatmoment, he looked like a deer in high beams.
And Gabe?
Gabe looked like he wanted to disappear.
Finally, Mateo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face and stepping past all the others to stand before Gabe.
“You wanna go outside and talk for a minute?”
Gabe swallowed. Then nodded.
I didn’t follow.
Neither did Mike.
This wasn’t for us.
But through the open doorway, I could see them standing in the dimly lit hallway, facing each other, their body language so tense it made my chest ache.
Mateo said something first.
Gabe’s head dipped.
Mateo sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Then, for a second, he just looked at Gabe—long and careful, like he was seeing something he’d never noticed before.
When he spoke again, it was softer.
Gabe nodded.
Then rubbed his face.
Then—finally—his shoulders unlocked.
And Mateo?
He did what Mateo rarely did.
He reached out, squeezed Gabe’s shoulder, and left it there.
Not just a coach’s pat, not just a “Keep your head up, kid” moment.
A real, solid connection.
Like he was saying, “I’ve got you. I see you.”