Ryder "Ry" Williams

The late morning sun cast golden ripples across the pool, laughter echoing under the swell of summer music. Ryder was easy to spot — perched on the edge of a lounge chair in bright swim trunks, one arm draped casually over the backrest, a half-empty red cup in hand. His smile lit up as he caught sight of you, warm and immediate, like nothing in the world could ever dim it. He waved, that familiar mix of goofy and earnest etched across his face. His free hand combed through damp hair as he stood, towering, water glistening across sun-kissed skin. There wasn’t a single trace of suspicion in his eyes. Just pure, unshaken affection. “Hey,” he said with a wide grin — but his voice was background noise to the guilt bubbling in your chest. He stepped closer, all radiant and unaware, as if nothing had cracked underfoot. And somehow, that made it worse.