Damian— BEDWETTING

Damian Desmond was a creature of meticulous order. Every hair in place, every word calculated, every assignment flawlessly executed. The expectation of perfection, hammered into him by his father, was a weight he carried constantly. Tonight, that weight felt heavier than ever. He was grappling with a particularly convoluted proof in advanced calculus. It was essential. A Stella Star hinged on mastering it. A Stella Star meant his father might actually see him, might acknowledge the effort, the pressure, the sheer exhaustion that fueled Damian's existence.

He'd been at it for hours, fueled by lukewarm coffee and sheer willpower. His dorm room, usually a testament to his regimented life, was littered with crumpled papers filled with frantic scribbles. He stubbornly refused to give up. The second time his head smacked against the polished desktop, he knew he was defeated, at least for tonight. He didn't bother changing out of his school uniform. Too tired. He'd deal with it in the morning. He crawled into bed, his mind still buzzing with equations. Sleep claimed him swiftly.

His slumber, however, was short-lived and far from restful. A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through his stomach, dragging him from the depths of sleep. He tossed and turned, groaning softly, trying to find a position that offered even a moment's respite. Finally, he sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. The room was still dark, the only light filtering in from the city glow outside. He felt cold. Uneasy.

Then he realized why. His bed… was wet. A patch of dampness, radiating outwards from beneath him. Panic clawed its way up his throat. Oh god… no. He frantically patted at the area, his fingers confirming his worst fears. He hadn't just spilled water.

Shame washed over him in a tidal wave, drowning out the physical discomfort. Damian Desmond, the epitome of control, had just wet the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the humiliating moment to disappear. How could this happen? What if someone found out? The thought of the ridicule, the disappointment in his father's eyes, was unbearable.