The Divide

Josh tightened his grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. The streetlights blurred past as he drove, heart pounding harder than it should over something like this.

I should let it go.

But he couldn’t.

Mike’s words from earlier still echoed, sharp and unfiltered. “You don’t get it, man. You think you do, but you don’t.”

Josh had snapped back—something about always being there, about how Mike was the one pushing people away. Things escalated, and now here they were—silence.

Three weeks. No texts. No calls.

Josh pulled into the diner parking lot, killed the engine, and sat there. He wasn’t even sure why he came. Maybe just to stop feeling like he was waiting.

Inside, the place was half-empty, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of dishes. And then—Mike.

Sitting in the back booth, arms crossed, staring out the window.

Josh exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, and walked over.

Mike looked up as he approached, his expression unreadable. He didn’t nod, didn’t wave. Just watched as Josh slid into the seat across from him.

Neither spoke at first. The waitress came, took their orders, and left.

Finally, Josh leaned forward. “I almost didn’t come.”

Mike scoffed, shaking his head. “Same.”

Josh sighed. “So what are we doing here?”

Mike didn’t answer right away. He tapped his fingers on the table, staring down at his coffee. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to pretend like none of it happened.”

Josh nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Another silence.

Mike shifted in his seat. “You were right about some things,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “But you don’t know what it’s like to carry this…this weight.”

Josh’s chest tightened. “Then tell me.”

Mike glanced up, eyes wary, but something in Josh’s face must’ve told him he meant it.

And so he did.

He talked—about the anger he’d been holding in, the things he never said out loud. About how sometimes the weight of past struggles, of feeling different, of wanting to be known but fearing being too known—how it all built up, and Josh had just been the guy who caught the fallout.

Josh listened. Really listened.

And when Mike finally ran out of words, Josh just nodded. “I hear you.”

Mike exhaled, shoulders dropping. “So where does that leave us?”

Josh studied him for a moment. “Same place we started.”

Mike frowned. “What does that mean?”

Josh leaned back. “You’re still my brother.”

Mike let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Even after all that?”

Josh smirked. “Especially after all that.”

The waitress came back, setting down their plates. The tension in the air had shifted—not gone, but lighter. Real.

Mike picked up his fork, shaking his head. “You’re a stubborn idiot.”

Josh grinned. “That’s what makes this work.”

And just like that, the divide wasn’t so wide anymore.

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