"Manhunt" (Part 1)
Ryan woke with a heaviness that seemed to anchor him to the bed. His limbs were sluggish, and his eyelids were weighted as if the very night had wrapped itself around him and refused to let go. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head, before finally dragging himself upright with a groan that felt carved out of his chest. His fingers raked through his disheveled hair before he rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.
The sheets were still tangled around him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet hit the floor with a soft thud, but even that sound felt unnaturally loud against the oppressive silence that filled the house.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ryan sat there for a moment, listening, straining to pick up anything beyond the faint thrum of his own pulse. Nothing. Nate's groans and swear words, cause Ryan knew he liked to fuck in the morning, his low snoring when he fell asleep after coming, Caleb's moans and wails. Everything was conspicuously absent. It wasn't just silence. It was an absence, a void where noise should have been.
He stood slowly, stretching out muscles that felt stiff from sleep before padding into the hallway. His gaze flicked toward Nate's door, his brow furrowing as he squinted at that sliver of stillness behind it.
"Nate?" he called softly, voice gravelly from disuse and sleep. There was no answer. No shuffle of sheets, no groggy grunt of acknowledgment. Just more silence.
A faint unease began to creep over him, like a chill crawling up his spine. Shaking it off with a determined shrug, Ryan turned away and headed toward the bathroom instead. He pushed open the door with one hand while scratching absently at the back of his head with the other. The mundane routine grounded him. The lid lifted with a hollow clack, and he relieved himself mechanically, flushing afterward without much thought.
But when he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, goosebumps prickled along his arms, not from the chill of the water, but something else. Something that made his skin feel too tight. He braced himself against the counter, watching droplets fall from his chin into the basin below as he blinked at his reflection in the mirror. His blue eyes stared back at him, dulled by sleep and shadowed with worry he didn't yet have words for.
"You look like shit," he muttered before dragging wet fingers down his face to wake himself up further. With a final exhale, he straightened and trudged downstairs.
The kitchen greeted him with the smell of coffee drifting lazily through the air and curling around him. The pot sat on its warmer, steam rising in thin tendrils that dissipated into nothingness above it. On autopilot now, Ryan pulled a mug from its usual spot in the cabinet and poured himself half a cup without overthinking. The ceramic felt warm against his palms as he leaned back against the counter, taking slow sips while letting his eyes wander across the room.
But something gnawed at him again, a slight, insistent tug at the edges of his awareness that refused to be ignored. The kitchen was exactly as it should have been: chairs tucked neatly under the table, dishes stacked in their usual places near the sink, every piece of furniture standing precisely where it had been left last night. And yet, something felt wrong.
The air was too still. Too weighty.
Ryan's gaze drifted unconsciously toward the front door, drawn by some invisible force tightening in his chest like an unseen hand gripping him hard enough to bruise. His stomach twisted inexplicably as he set down his mug with deliberate care and walked toward it.
When he saw it, his breath caught.
The car sat in its usual spot outside the driveway, unmoved since they had arrived.
His pulse slowed for a beat long enough for dread to slip through the cracks before quickening again like a drumbeat pounding against his ribs. Ryan stepped onto the porch without fully realizing what he was doing. His feet carried him forward as if compelled by something beyond logic or reason. His eyes scanned everything, the driveway, empty except for Nate's car. The road and trails beyond still cloaked in dawn's sleepy haze.
And then, his gaze dropped.
The keys.
Sitting there on the steps like they'd fallen from Nate's pocket or been left behind deliberately.
Ryan's stomach clenched hard enough to make him nauseous as he knelt down slowly, almost reverently picking them up between trembling fingers. The sharp edges pressed into his palm as he closed them in a fist tighter than necessary.
Why would Nate leave these here?
His mind raced now, a thousand possibilities cascading through him like dominoes falling one after another, none good.
And then it hit him.
"Fuck," Ryan hissed under his breath before shoving himself upright again.
Two steps at a time, Ryan tore back up those stairs, his heart hammering, his breath coming in bursts that burned his throat. It wasn't just haste driving him. It was fear. A gnawing, clawing kind of fear that latched onto his ribs and squeezed tighter with every step. His hand skimmed the banister as he climbed, his grip tightening until his knuckles.
As he reached the top, the hallway felt impossibly long. His footsteps slapped against the hardwood floor, echoing like gunshots in the house's stillness. When he reached Caleb's door, he didn't hesitate. He shoved it open with enough force to send it banging against the wall.
"Wake up!" His voice cracked, raw and urgent, slicing through the room like a blade.
Caleb barely stirred. He lay sprawled across the bed, his face pressed deep into the pillow, strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead. The sheets were a tangled mess around his waist, and the room reeked of cum. He groaned faintly, a sound of protest more than acknowledgment, and shifted slightly, his body heavy with exhaustion.
Ryan's chest tightened, frustration bubbling. "Wake the fuck up!" he barked again, louder this time, his voice sharp and cracking with desperation.
Another groan, this one deeper, more irritated. Caleb's head turned just enough for one eye to squint open lazily, but it closed again almost immediately. His lips moved in a slow mumble that was too soft to make out entirely.
Ryan started pacing back and forth across the room like a caged animal, each step driven by restless energy that had nowhere to go. His hands clenched into fists at his sides before raking through his hair in agitation.
"He's gone."
That did it.
Caleb's head snapped up this time, sluggish movements replaced by sudden alertness as though Ryan's words had flipped a switch inside him. His brows furrowed deeply, carving lines of confusion and concern across his face. He blinked against the brightness streaming into the room, trying to understand what he'd just heard.
"What do you mean gone?" His voice was thick with sleep but edged with unease now, a gravelly tone that betrayed how little he wanted an answer to that question.
Ryan stopped pacing and turned to face him head-on. His chest rose and fell rapidly as if he'd just sprinted a mile instead of climbing a flight of stairs. "I mean," Ryan began, his voice trembling with barely restrained panic, "he's not here. The car's still outside, and he left the keys on the fucking steps." He paused for breath but didn't give Caleb a chance to interrupt. "I don't know where he went or why, but something is really fucking wrong."
Caleb sat up fully now, swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one smooth motion. He rubbed both hands down his face like he was trying to scrub away whatever remnants of sleep still clung to him. His movements were slow, too slow for Ryan's liking, and there was something almost deliberate about how he finally looked up at him.
"That doesn't make any sense," Caleb said quietly, shaking his head as though saying it aloud might make it true. "Maybe he..."
"He left!" Ryan cut him off sharply before Caleb could finish whatever excuse he was about to offer. His voice cracked again under what he was saying, or maybe under what he wasn't but feared all the same. "And...I don't think he's coming back."
The words hung between them like smoke from an extinguished fire, thick, choking, and impossible to ignore.
For a moment, Caleb didn't move. He sat frozen on the edge of the bed, one hand still caught mid-motion in his hair while the other rested limply on his thigh. His emerald eyes locked onto Ryan's now as if searching for some hint that this was all part of some cruel joke or misunderstanding.
But there was no familiar smirk hiding in Ryan's expression, only raw urgency and something darker lurking beneath it.
"Get dressed," Ryan snapped when Caleb didn't respond fast enough for him. His voice cut through the silence as he stormed toward the door without waiting for an answer. "Get your shit and meet me downstairs."
Caleb opened his mouth as if to argue, to tell Ryan he was overreacting or that they needed more information, but the look on Ryan's face stopped him cold. There was no room for negotiation here. This wasn't a conversation but an order.
Ryan's footsteps thundered down the hall, the sound of someone running not toward something but away from everything they couldn't explain or control. His breath came fast and shallow when he reached the bottom step again. Every inhalation was like dragging air into the lungs, which were too tight to hold.
About ten minutes later, the front door slammed behind Caleb. He paused on the wooden porch, his shoulders hunched against the chill bite that settled into his bones. The boards creaked beneath his weight as he shifted, his arms instinctively crossing over his chest as if the gesture might shield him from more than just the cold. His breath fogged in front of him, a fleeting ghost in the crisp air, but it did little to clear his mind or calm the gnawing unease twisting in his gut.
Down by the car, Ryan was a storm barely contained. His movements were sharp and mechanical. He hurled their bags into the backseat violently that the entire car rocked on its wheels. Ryan didn't seem to notice or care. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked as though it might shatter under the strain, and his blue eyes burned with something dark, something raw. His every motion screamed impatience, an urgency that Caleb couldn't match.
Caleb lingered at the edge of the porch steps, one hand rising to rub at his face. His fingers dragged over his eyes, pressing harder than necessary. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and hesitant.
"Hey, maybe we should wait," Caleb said softly, his words hanging in the air like fragile glass. "Maybe he just..."
Ryan spun around so fast it was like he'd been struck. Caleb recoiled instinctively, taking half a step back onto the porch as Ryan's glare pinned him in place. The suddenness sent Caleb's heart racing; Ryan's anger wasn't new, but this felt different, sharper, more volatile.
"Maybe what?" Ryan's voice sliced through them like a whip. His tone dripped with venomous sarcasm, but beneath it was something else, a tremor of pain that he couldn't entirely hide. "Maybe he just went for a walk? Maybe he needed some fucking fresh air to think things through? Is that what you're telling yourself?"
Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but Ryan barreled on before he could get a word out.
"Wake the fuck up, dude," Ryan snapped, stepping closer now. The fury in his gaze was unrelenting, but something was wounded there, too, a desperation that made Caleb's chest ache. "He left you. He left..." he stumbled, the word cracking as it came out.
Caleb's throat worked as he swallowed hard against the lump forming there. His hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists as if bracing himself against some unseen blow. He shook his head slowly, stubbornly clinging to denial even as cracks began to form in its foundation.
"No," Caleb said hoarsely, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. "He wouldn't..."
"He did." Ryan's words were almost a growl as he stalked forward another step, closing the distance between them. He wasn't shouting anymore. Instead, his voice had dropped into something lower and more dangerous, a simmering rage barely contained by thin threads of composure. "He walked out on you without so much as a goddamn note or call or anything. And you want to sit here and wait around like a fucking puppy hoping he'll come back?"
The words hit like physical blows, and Caleb flinched under their weight even though Ryan hadn't raised a hand toward him. His lips parted uselessly as though searching for some rebuttal, some justification, but nothing came.
Ryan let out a bitter laugh that sounded like a sob strangled halfway through its escape. He shook his head sharply before turning away from Caleb and toward the car again. He yanked open the driver's side door with enough force that it groaned in protest.
"Get in," Ryan said flatly over his shoulder.
Caleb stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Ryan's rigid back. When he didn't move fast enough for Ryan's liking, there was another loud growl. This time, Ryan slammed his fist down on the car's roof.
"Get in the fucking car!" Ryan shouted now, spinning back toward Caleb with fire in his eyes.
Caleb blinked rapidly as though trying to clear tears before they could fall. His expression twisted into something caught between anger and hurt, a storm of emotions that mirrored Ryan's but refused to surface quite so violently.
For a long moment that stretched unbearably thin, Caleb didn't move. Then, finally, reluctantly, he relented. He slowly stepped down from the porch and toward the car's passenger side without looking at Ryan again. Every movement was stiff and deliberate, as though dragging himself forward required every ounce of willpower he had left.
When he slid into the seat beside Ryan, he found no comfort. The space between them felt cavernous, wordless.
Ryan didn't say another word after that.
The engine roared to life beneath them like an animal being roused from slumber, not eager but resigned, and within seconds, they were moving. The tires screeched slightly as Ryan peeled out of the driveway without hesitation or ceremony. Caleb glanced over his shoulder at the house growing smaller in their wake. The porch where he'd stood moments ago was empty save for shadows stretching long in the morning light.
Soon, the road stretched endlessly ahead, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. The trees on either side blurred into indistinct smears of green, their details lost to the relentless speed at which they drove past them.
Ryan's hands gripped the steering wheel ferociously, turning his knuckles bone-white. His fingers dug into the leather as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. His jaw was locked so tight it sent sharp pangs to his temples, but he didn't relax.
He couldn't.
Beside him, Caleb sat stiffly, his body angled slightly toward the passenger-side window. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his fingers clutching at his biceps as though holding himself together. He stared out at the passing trees, but his gaze was unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the blur of green. The silence between them wasn't just uncomfortable; it was oppressive. A dense fog filled every inch of the car and pressed down on their chests, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, Caleb broke it.
"Do you want to stop?" he asked, glancing discreetly at Ryan.
"No. Why?" Ryan snapped back, almost instinctively.
"You look...tired," Caleb muttered.
"Well, I didn't sleep much. Listening to your screaming all night like a little bitch," he fired, lips thinning. "Hope you enjoyed it. Cause it sure looks like you ain't get more of it. Like, ever," he stated. Even though the words were cruel, Caleb couldn't help but notice a certain sadness in Ryan's tone.
They weren't meant just for Caleb.
There was a long silence. Caleb turned toward the window, his eyes shivering slightly.
"He left you, too," he murmured, his voice soft but raw, each word scraping out of him. He didn't look at Ryan as he spoke. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the window, afraid of what he might see if he turned.
Ryan's grip faltered for a split second, his fingers loosening before tightening again around the wheel. His blue eyes flickered with something sharp and fleeting, a pain he hadn't allowed himself to confront yet. The road ahead seemed to shimmer, its edges wavering like heat rising off the asphalt. He blinked hard and refocused, forcing himself to gaze straight ahead. But Caleb's words had already slipped past his defenses, burrowing deeper than he anticipated.
"Fuck!" The curse tore from Ryan's lips like an explosion, loud and sudden. His fist came down on the steering wheel, once, twice, and on the third strike, the horn blared angrily into the empty road ahead. "Mother fucker, son of a bitch!" he roared, causing the car to swerve slightly under his grip before he yanked it back into line with a sharp jerk. His breath came fast and uneven now, each inhale rattling in his chest as though it were dragging over shards of glass. "I fucking knew something was off," he stammered.
Caleb jumped at the outburst, his head snapping toward Ryan as fear flickered across his features. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing with confusion. "What are you talking about? When did you know something was off?" he demanded, his voice rising just enough to betray his unease.
Ryan opened his mouth to respond but closed it again just as quickly. His jaw worked furiously, trying to grind down words that refused to come out cleanly. Images flashed through his mind: Nate sitting on the couch that night, the empty bottles and the weed, that distant look growing colder every time Ryan tried to reach him. It played out like scenes from a reel he couldn't turn off.
But when Ryan finally spoke, it wasn't what he wanted to say. It wasn't even close.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered hoarsely. His voice was low and thick with frustration at Nate, himself, and everything. "Just...just call him." He swallowed hard and added more forcefully this time. "Do it."
Caleb hesitated for a moment before fumbling for his phone. His hands trembled as he unlocked it and scrolled through his recent list until Nate's name appeared on the screen. He hit 'Call' with a shaky thumb and pressed the phone to his ear. The ringing began almost immediately, a cold, mechanical sound that seemed to stretch forever in its monotony.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Each tone felt louder than the last, filling the car with an unbearable silence. Caleb's heart thudded as he stared at the dashboard without seeing it.
Until finally.
"The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."
Caleb lowered the phone slowly from his ear and stared at it momentarily as though willing to give him a different answer. But no text came through, and no missed call notification appeared.
"He's out of reach," Caleb said quietly after what felt like forever. His voice was flat now, drained, and his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.
"Yeah, no shit," Ryan bit out bitterly. He slammed his palm against the dashboard with enough force to make Caleb flinch again. Ryan's breaths were shallow and uneven now, as though he couldn't quite get enough air into his lungs no matter how hard he tried.
"We just need to calm the fuck down," Ryan said abruptly after several tense seconds. But even as he spoke those words aloud as if saying them could make them true, his entire body betrayed him. Every muscle remained taut, every breath came raggedly, and every nerve hummed with barely contained energy.
Caleb turned slowly toward him, and his tone was chillingly subdued when he spoke again. "I am calm."
The words hit Ryan like a slap, not because they were loud or angry but because they weren't. They were measured and deliberate and utterly infuriating in their composure.
"Well, good for you!" Ryan shouted suddenly, the dam breaking all at once as months' worth of frustration spilled unchecked. His voice cracked under intensity as he glared daggers at Caleb without taking his hands off the wheel or slowing down even slightly. "Must be fucking nice to just sit there all zen while everything around you goes to shit!"
Caleb flinched again, not physically but emotionally, and something shifted in his expression. The hurt flashed briefly before being replaced by something harder and colder. He turned away wordlessly and resumed staring out at nothing.
Ryan exhaled sharply, a sound somewhere between a sigh and growl, and tightened both hands around the leather once more until every joint protested painfully against its restraint.
"We just need…" His voice cracked mid-sentence before lowering almost inaudibly. "…to get home."
Two excruciating hours later, Ryan hit the brakes on the car, parking it at a twisted angle across their driveway.
The house was eerily silent as Ryan and Caleb stepped inside, the silence that sank into your bones and made you question every creak of the floorboards. Ryan paused inside the doorway, his hand still resting on the doorknob. He glanced at Caleb, his brow furrowed in a way that made his unease clear without a single word being spoken. Caleb met his gaze, his expression tense, but neither spoke. The only sound in the house was the low, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen.
They exchanged a brief look, and an agreement passed between them. Caleb nodded once, almost imperceptibly, then turned and headed toward the staircase. Ryan lingered for half a second longer before stepping further into the house, carefully and deliberately.
His pulse quickened as he moved through the rooms with measured precision, scanning every detail like a detective piecing together evidence at a crime scene. The study was as they had left it before they left. The desk was neatly organized, and Nate's laptop was closed and sitting next to his phone and charger.
Nate was at the house.
Probably a couple of hours before they arrived.
Ryan could feel his scent still lingering in the air.
He tapped the phone screen, exhaling through his nose as he saw Caleb's call there. He started opening drawers, rifling through papers with increasing urgency. Bills. Receipts. A couple of old photographs tucked into a folder. Nothing out of place. Nothing useful.
The gnawing pit in his stomach grew deeper with every second. It looked like Nate could have just stepped out for a cigarette or gone for a quick errand, but Ryan knew better. The tension in his jaw tightened as he tried to push down the rising panic clawing at him.
A sudden noise startled him, footsteps on the stairs. He turned just as Caleb returned from upstairs, his face pale and drawn tight with worry. "All of his clothes are still there," Caleb said, his voice tight and rising slightly with each word. "His jackets, boots, even his fucking watch is still on the dresser." His hands twitched at his sides as he stared at Ryan wide-eyed. "It doesn't make any sense."
Ryan clenched his teeth, his frustration bubbling over as he watched Caleb unravel before him. His breathing was uneven now, shallow and too quick, on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Alright, alright. Calm down," Ryan snapped sharply, his tone cutting through Caleb's escalating panic like a blade. "Let me think."
Caleb flinched at Ryan's harsh voice but didn't argue. Instead, he stood there frozen before taking a small step back. Ryan exhaled sharply through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, grounding himself before spinning on his heel and heading toward the basement door.
"What are you doing?" Caleb called after him, trailing close behind.
"He kept a safe down here," Ryan muttered without looking back.
Caleb frowned from behind him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. "A safe? Since when? How do you even know about this?"
Ryan didn't turn around or bother answering directly. Instead, he said tersely, "I like to snoop around, remember?" His fingers froze on one particular picture frame, a photo of Nate and Caleb from years ago that hung slightly crooked on the wall. In it, Caleb couldn't have been more than twelve years old, flashing an awkward grin while Nate beamed beside him with an arm slung casually over his shoulder.
Without hesitation, Ryan yanked the frame off the wall to reveal what he had been looking for: a sleek metal safe embedded into the concrete behind it.
"Found it," Ryan breathed.
Caleb moved closer but hesitated just behind him as Ryan began punching in numbers, Nate's birthday first, then Caleb's birthday, and Jenna's birthday for good measure. Each attempt was met with an infuriating beep and no progress.
"Fuck!" Ryan hissed through gritted teeth after another failed attempt. He slammed his fist against the wall beside the safe hard enough to make it thud dully beneath his knuckles. The sting barely registered.
"Guess you should have snooped harder," Caleb whispered, a hint of pettiness in his words. "Move," he said suddenly, stepping forward with unexpected determination.
Ryan looked incredulously over his shoulder but reluctantly shifted aside to let Caleb take over. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Caleb didn't answer. Instead, he began typing in numbers with surprising confidence, as if he'd done this before. A second later, that telltale mechanical click came as the safe unlocked.
Ryan blinked in surprise before narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Caleb. "How did you...?"
"The day we moved here," Caleb cut him off brusquely without meeting his gaze. He reached forward and swung open the door of the safe.
Both leaned closer to peer inside and froze at what they saw.
It was nearly empty.
Ryan's stomach twisted violently as he took in the bare interior of what should have been full of Nate's emergency stash: cash neatly bundled together and always ready for use, passports and IDs meticulously stored for safekeeping.
"It's missing," Ryan muttered hoarsely after a long beat of silence.
Caleb turned to look at him sharply, confusion shadowing every line of his face. "What's missing?"
Ryan clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to take slow breaths through his nose even though panic was starting to crawl under his skin like something alive and relentless. "His passport," he said finally, voice low and hollow. "And the stack of cash he always kept here."
The color drained from Caleb's face completely as realization set in.
Ryan took an unsteady step back from the safe before turning to Caleb with an expression that teetered dangerously between anger and despair. His voice cracked slightly when he finally spoke again.
"He's gone."
Ryan's heart hammered against his ribs as he stepped back, his movements jerky, like a puppet on frayed strings. His hand shot up to rake through his messy hair, fingers trembling as they combed out the knots. His breath came in uneven gasps, shallow and sharp, each inhale scraping against his throat like sandpaper.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. He stared at the gaping void inside the safe, its emptiness felt like a taunt, mocking his carelessness, his failure to see the signs.
Caleb stood frozen a few feet away, his body unnaturally still. His eyes were locked on the hollow space where Nate's passport and cash should have been. The realization hit him like a gut punch, leaving him winded without moving a muscle. His hands hung stiffly at his sides, fingers twitching sporadically as if they didn't know what to do with themselves.
Finally, Caleb's head snapped toward Ryan, his expression a storm of fury and disbelief. "This is all your fault."
Ryan's head jerked up at the accusation, his eyes narrowing into slits. "What the fuck did you just say?" His voice had an edge to it now, sharp, defensive, crackling with barely contained anger.
"You heard me," Caleb spat back, his tone dripping with venom. His emerald eyes burned with something raw and unfiltered, rage, yes, but hurt he couldn't quite mask. "Everything was fine before you came along. Before you showed up and started...whatever the fuck it was you were doing to him."
Ryan let out a sarcastic scoff, but there was no humor in it, just bitterness curdled into something ugly and jagged. "Oh, don't pull that shit, nerd. Don't pretend like you didn't see it. Like you didn't fucking feel it."
Caleb's face twisted as though Ryan's words physically stung him. His lip curled in disgust, his jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might crack under the pressure. "You think I don't know what you were doing? I see the way you latch onto people," he hissed, stepping closer now, his body taut with fury. "How you pushed your way into their lives until they can't fucking breathe. That's what you did to him."
Then, Ryan laughed, a sharp bark filled with scorn and defiance. "Yeah? And what the fuck were you doing then?" he shot back, each word laced with poison. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they were almost toe-to-toe. "Sitting pretty? Waiting for Daddy to come home and tuck you in? Maybe if you actually paid attention to him instead of burying your nose in your little fucking books all day, you would've noticed how miserable he was."
The words landed squarely on Caleb's chest like a blow he hadn't seen coming. His body went rigid as though bracing for impact while his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed to coil at once, ready to spring or snap. His voice came out low and loaded with menace. "Fuck. You."
Ryan didn't flinch. If anything, he leaned closer into Caleb's space, his chest rising and falling with restrained fury. "No," he shot back sharply, his voice slicing through the heavy air like broken glass. "Fuck you. Do you want to blame me? Fine. But deep down, deep fucking down, you know damn well he didn't leave because of me." Ryan's voice cracked slightly on the last word as something unspoken threatened to surface, but he buried it quickly beneath another scathing retort. "He left because of you."
The silence that followed was deafening, thick, and suffocating like tar. Caleb flinched visibly this time, his shoulders jerking back as though Ryan had slapped him across the face. For a brief moment, something broke through Caleb's mask of anger, something raw and unguarded that flickered in his eyes before vanishing just as quickly behind a wall of cold fury.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Caleb finally said through gritted teeth, but there was a tremor in his voice now, a crack in the armor that hadn't been there before.
Ryan smirked then, a cruel twist of his lips. It was a predator's grin: vicious and unrelenting. He took another deliberate step forward until there was barely an inch of space between them now. "Don't I?" he whispered mockingly, tilting his head slightly to one side like he dared Caleb to contradict him again. "You think you were enough for him?" Ryan's voice dropped lower now, soft but no less cutting for it. "Open your fucking eyes, nerd," he sneered harshly before delivering the final blow. "A guy like Nate...he needs a real man."
The words shattered whatever fragile control Caleb had clung to like glass hitting concrete. Without thinking or hesitating, Caleb lunged forward with a growl from somewhere deep within him. His hands shot out and grabbed fistfuls of Ryan's shirt before slamming him against the cold cinderblock wall behind them with enough force to rattle the shelves nearby.
Ryan grunted at the impact but didn't look away, not even for a second. Instead, he grinned up at Caleb through gritted teeth, wild-eyed and breathless but utterly unafraid.
"Hit me," Ryan taunted softly but firmly, the challenge clear in every syllable left his lips. His voice was low now, a dangerous murmur that sent chills racing down Caleb's spine even as rage clouded his vision further. "Come on. I know you want to," Ryan goaded again with a sly smirk curling at one corner of his mouth. "I can feel it..."
Caleb's fingers tightened their grip on Ryan's shirt until his knuckles, while every fiber of his being screamed at him to swing, to hit, to do something. But he didn't move beyond that, not yet anyway, and instead, he stared into Ryan's defiant eyes while their breaths mingled hotly between them.
And that's when it hit Caleb.
He could see it inside Ryan's blue eyes. It was there, clear as daylight.
He was hurting, too.
But Ryan's pain was being transformed into the only language he could understand.
Violence.
Anger.
Hate.
And how could Caleb not recognize it? After all, he had grown up watching it happen to the person he loved the most.
Nate.
With an angry shove, Caleb released Ryan abruptly before turning sharply on his heel without another word.
Caleb's feet pounded against the stairs, his breath sharp and ragged. The front door slammed open with a force that rattled the hinges, letting a dull gray light spill into the basement behind him. Caleb didn't stop looking back or pause to explain himself. He was halfway across the yard, his long strides eating up the distance.
Like a shadow, Ryan was on his heels, his sneakers scuffing against the uneven ground as he hurried after him. "Where the hell are you going?" he snapped. There was an edge to his tone, equal parts confusion and irritation.
Caleb didn't even glance over his shoulder. His pace didn't falter, didn't slow. If anything, it quickened. "None of your business," he shot back, his voice clipped, each word like a door slamming shut.
Ryan made a sharp scoff, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up. "Yeah, well, tough shit," he retorted, his words biting and deliberate. "We're in this together, nerd." His voice carried a challenge, daring Caleb to push him away, but Caleb didn't rise to it.
Not this time.
Instead, he pressed forward in silence, his jaw tight and set like stone. His hands were buried deep in his hoodie pockets, his shoulders rigid like bracing against an invisible wind. Ryan stepped beside him, his irritation simmering as they strode through the quiet streets.
Ryan's gaze darted sideways toward Caleb as they walked. He studied him from the corner of his eye, the taut line of his mouth, the way his brow furrowed deeply enough to cast shadows over his eyes. His silence was unnerving. It wasn't like Caleb to shut down like this. Ryan opened his mouth more than once to say something but thought better each time. Still, he couldn't help himself muttering, "You always gotta be this dramatic?"
Caleb ignored him completely.
It wasn't until Ryan began recognizing their surroundings that unease started to creep in, which had nothing to do with Caleb's mood. His eyes caught on familiar landmarks: an old convenience store with its flickering neon sign and a rusted chain-link fence surrounding an empty lot. And then it hit him where they were headed.
Nate's construction company.
Ryan's lips curled into a smirk despite himself as Caleb strode straight toward the weathered building that housed the office. The faded sign above the entrance swayed slightly, creaking on rusty hinges. Caleb pushed open the door without hesitation and stepped inside, letting it slam shut behind him with a jarring thud.
Ryan lingered just outside for a moment before following him in. He leaned casually against the doorframe as if he had all the time in the world and cocked an eyebrow at Caleb. "Smart move, nerd," he said dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Caleb shot him a glare so cold it could have frozen fire. "Don't talk to me," he snapped.
The inside of the office smelled exactly how Ryan expected it to, sawdust, stale coffee, and something faintly metallic. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with binders and blueprints rolled tightly into tubes. A desk sat near the center of the room, covered in paperwork and stray pens scattered haphazardly across its surface.
Then came a voice from deeper within the office.
"Caleb?"
It was steady but tinged with surprise, and moments later, an older man appeared from behind one of the desks. He was broad-shouldered and sturdy-looking, wearing a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves that revealed forearms thick with muscle. His salt-and-pepper hair matched his neatly trimmed beard, though something about his expression made him seem younger than he probably was.
Caleb straightened instinctively at the sight of him as though some invisible thread had pulled him upright, but there was no warmth in his demeanor when he replied. "Hey, Mark."
Mark's face softened into a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and stepped closer. "I didn't expect to see you around here," he said lightly before glancing toward Ryan with mild curiosity. "I think I've seen you around..." Mark uttered. "You're..."
"Not important," Caleb said quickly before Ryan could even think about answering for himself.
Mark raised an eyebrow at Caleb's curt response but didn't press further, not yet, anyway, and instead gestured vaguely toward one of the chairs near his desk. "What brings you by?"
Caleb wasted no time cutting straight to what mattered: "You seen my dad around?"
Mark's neck snapped back, and he hesitated before responding for just a fraction of a second too long. His hand went reflexively to scratch at the back of his head, a small gesture but one that spoke volumes. When he finally answered, there was something cautious in his tone. "You mean…he didn't tell you?"
Caleb's stomach dropped at those words even before Mark elaborated further.
"Tell me what?" Caleb asked sharply, steel in his voice now.
Mark sighed heavily before meeting Caleb's gaze again: "Your dad...he sold the company. About three weeks ago...?"
Ryan's eyes snapped to Caleb's. Caleb's expression didn't betray much, his features schooled into a mask of neutrality, but Ryan caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, a tell he'd learned to recognize over years of knowing him. Something wasn't right. He didn't need to say it. He could feel Caleb knew it, too.
Caleb's voice came out low and steady but with an edge. "You're sure?"
Mark nodded, his brows furrowed slightly as if replaying the events in his head. "Yeah. He signed the deal, then just packed up and left. Said he was taking some time for himself. Didn't give much more than that." He hesitated, tilting his head as he studied them both. "Why wouldn't he tell...? Caleb...is everything okay?"
Before Caleb could answer, Ryan's gaze shifted past Mark, locking onto movement near the warehouse entrance. His body stiffened instinctively as he took in the two men who had just walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in dark suits that screamed authority, they stood out against the dusty chaos of the construction office like ink on clean parchment. They weren't customers, no one came here in thousand-dollar suits to buy drywall, and they weren't part of the crew either.
He'd seen enough during Jenna's late-night rants about her legal cases to recognize the type. The way they carried themselves, the sharpness in their eyes, they were law enforcement, or something close enough to it that it didn't matter what badge they might flash later. And wherever they went, trouble followed.
His instincts flared like a warning siren.
His hand shot out and clamped around Caleb's arm with urgency. "We need to go," he said, his voice low but firm.
Caleb blinked at him, startled by the sudden grip and the tension in Ryan's tone. "What..."
"Now," Ryan hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes darting back toward the suited men as if expecting them to turn their heads any second.
Mark's confusion deepened as he watched them. His brows drew together tightly, suspicion creeping into his tone. "Hey, what's going on? Why are you..."
Ryan didn't bother answering. He pushed past Mark without so much as a glance back, dragging Caleb along with him. Caleb stumbled once but quickly found his footing, his longer strides catching up to Ryan's hurried pace as they barreled through the door and onto the sidewalk.
Ryan kept moving, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds as if expecting those men to follow them at any moment. It wasn't until they had put nearly a block between themselves and the warehouse that Ryan finally slowed his pace and released Caleb's arm.
Caleb jerked away from him immediately, spinning around with anger and confusion across his face. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through the din of passing cars and distant construction noise. "Well?" Caleb pressed his frustration mounting. "You want to tell me why you just hauled me out of there like we're fugitives?"
Ryan stared at Caleb, his fingers running through his hair. Caleb knew what this meant by now. Ryan was mulling over something.
"Come on," he said firmly again, already turning toward the house. "We need to get back," he added. Caleb hesitated for only a second before falling into step beside him.
The further they got from the warehouse and those suits, the heavier Ryan's thoughts became. Nate hadn't just taken off for a weekend getaway, or some impromptu soul-searching road trip like Mark seemed to believe.
No one packed up and disappeared without telling anyone unless they were running from someone. Or something.
About ten minutes later, they were back at the house. Caleb stepped inside first, his movements stiff and robotic, like his body had forgotten how to function naturally. He didn't even bother taking off his shoes despite the mud caked on their soles—a detail that would typically have him muttering about keeping things clean. Instead, he trudged into the living room, sinking onto the couch with a weight that seemed to pull him deeper than the cushions could hold. His hands moved to his face as if trying to block out the world or maybe just himself. His fingers pressed against his temples, trembling slightly, before sliding down to cover his eyes.
His chest tightened, a hard knot forming behind his ribcage, twisting tighter with every second. His thoughts were a tangled mess of raw emotions, grief, anger, and confusion, all coiling together into one suffocating mass. He tried to pull at the threads to make sense of his feelings, but they only knotted further, resisting any attempt at clarity.
Nate was gone.
The thought hit him again, sharper this time, like a blade pressing against a bleeding wound. Caleb's mind latched onto the word as if saying it differently might make it hurt less. But there was no softening it.
Nate had left.
And it wasn't just how he left. It was the way he did it. The sheer abruptness of it all was staggering. No warning, no note scribbled on the kitchen counter, no text message explaining why, where, or even when he'd decided to go. Nothing but silence in his wake. It was as though Nate had been erased from his life overnight, leaving behind only the ghost of his presence.
Caleb could still feel his father's cock inside him. Throbbing. Like a heartbeat.
He had pulled out of Caleb's body and walked out of his life.
A part of Caleb felt hollowed out. A deep ache settled into his core like an old wound torn open anew. It was raw and tender and unbearable in its intensity. He felt like a kid again: small, helpless, abandoned without a map or compass to guide him through the wreckage Nate's absence had left behind.
But another part of him burned with something hotter, furious, and unrelenting, demanding answers his father wasn't here to give.
How could he do this, Caleb thought?
His hands clenched into fists against his knees as the question roared through his mind like wildfire. His jaw locked tight enough to ache, and his nails dug crescents into his palms until the sting forced him to stop.
How could he just leave him like this?
How could someone who claimed to love so profoundly turn around and inflict this kind of pain without a second thought? Caleb wanted to scream, to tear apart the room if it meant finding some release, but all he could do was sit there. Frozen. Immobilized by a heavy betrayal, it felt like lead coursing through his veins.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ryan's voice uttered from behind him, sharp and biting. His face was flushed with frustration, brows drawn together in disbelief as he stared at Caleb lumped on the couch like a broken marionette. "So that's it?" Ryan snapped. "You're just gonna sit there and… wallow?"
Caleb didn't respond. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment passed over his features.
"Are you serious right now?" Ryan barked louder this time, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What the fuck are you doing? You think if you stare at your shoes long enough, he'll magically walk through that door?"
Still nothing.
Ryan let out a bitter laugh devoid of humor and shook his head in disgust. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath before spinning on his heel and storming toward the stairs.
Upstairs in his room, Ryan threw open his closet door so hard it banged against the wall behind it. Grabbing a duffel bag from the shelf above, he yanked clothes off hangers with reckless abandon, shirts and jeans, sweatpants and hoodies piling onto the bed without care for wrinkles or order.
His movements were erratic and jerky as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to pack or destroy everything within reach. Halfway through stuffing another shirt into the bag's gaping mouth, Ryan froze suddenly, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as adrenaline coursed through him unchecked.
And then something inside him snapped.
With a guttural growl that barely sounded human, Ryan lashed out with all his strength, his foot connecting with one leg of his bed frame so hard that wood splintered beneath its forceful impact.
"Traitor," he muttered hoarsely, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.
His gaze fell on one corner of the room where Caleb's old backpack sat propped against the wall. Something shifted inside Ryan then. It was not exactly softer, but sharper and more focused. Determination was replaced by fury in slow increments until only resolve remained. Ryan stared at that bag like it held answers he hadn't thought possible moments before.
If Nate wasn't coming back, neither was Ryan.
Not without finding out why first.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the sound of tires crunching over the gravel jolted Caleb out of his spiraling thoughts. He had been staring blankly at the chipped paint on the windowsill, his mind a chaotic storm of what-ifs. The noise snapped him back to the present with an almost physical force. His head turned sharply toward the window, his pulse quickening.
He saw Jenna's car pulling into the driveway through the smudged glass. The front door swung open with a creak that echoed through the house. Jenna walked in, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor with an almost confrontational rhythm. Her perfume, a sharp blend of citrus and something floral, reached Caleb before her voice did. But it wasn't just her presence that made his stomach tighten.
She wasn't alone.
An older man followed close behind her, his stride purposeful but not hurried. He was sharply dressed in a tailored gray suit that screamed money and influence. Everything about him radiated polished professionalism, from perfectly knotting his tie to the glint of a gold watch peeking from beneath his cuff. Caleb's frown deepened as his gaze lingered on the man's face: clean-shaven, piercing eyes that seemed to appraise everything in the room within seconds.
Jenna barely spared Caleb a glance as she dropped her oversized purse onto the kitchen counter, its contents rattling noisily. She moved with detachment, like someone who knew how to avoid confrontation or invite it when it suited her.
Caleb pushed himself upright on the couch, his heart already pounding in his chest. He broke the silence first, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger. "Who the fuck is this?"
Jenna turned to him with feigned surprise, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of irritation. "Language, Caleb," she said lightly, as if his question were absurd. "This is Victor. He's a partner at my firm." Her tone was casual and dismissive, designed to downplay any possible significance of Victor's presence here.
But Caleb wasn't buying it. His jaw tightened as he rose to his feet. "You brought another guy into my dad's house?" His voice cracked slightly at the mention of Nate, and he hated himself for it.
Jenna sighed, rolling her eyes as if he were an overreacting child throwing a tantrum over nothing. "Oh, for God's sake, Caleb," she said sharply, her patience fraying at the edges. "Don't be so dramatic."
But Caleb wasn't done, not even close. The heat rising in his chest threatened to boil over as he stepped toward her, his voice rising. "Dramatic?" he repeated incredulously, his throat tightening around the word. "Are you fucking serious right now?"
Jenna stilled, studying Caleb now with sharper eyes. He could feel it coming. "What's he done now?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement like she already knew whatever came next would prove her right about Nate.
Caleb hesitated, and that second of silence was all Jenna needed. Her lips curled in something between a smirk and a sneer. "Oh," she drawled, tilting her head. "You don't even know where he is, do you?"
Caleb swallowed. "He left."
Jenna hummed knowingly. "Of course, he did. They all do." She turned, taking the other guy's coat and hanging it up on Nate's spot on the hanger.
Caleb's breath hitched, his blood boiling. "You talk like you're above him, like you never had a hand in why things are the way they are," he seethed.
Jenna scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. Nate was already damaged by the time I got to him. Trust me. I know damaged when I see it. He was worthless as a father. He was worthless as a husband. And he was certainly worthless as a man," she spat out, her voice venomous.
Something inside Caleb cracked.
His fists trembled, his vision blurring at the edges. His voice dropped, shaking with fury. "And you were a horrible mother."
Jenna's smirk vanished.
Caleb took a step back, chest heaving. "You ruined Ryan," he whispered. "You ruin everything you touch," he added, purposely glancing at Victor, who couldn't look more uncomfortable.
Jenna opened her mouth to respond, but Caleb was already gone, tearing through the house, his pulse roaring in his ears.
He hit the front door, yanking it open.
Jenna's voice chased after him, sharper now, angrier. "Don't you dare walk away from me, you little shit!" she yelled, her heels slapping against the wooden floorboards of the porch, her voice rising like a serrated blade cutting through the humid night air. "You think he cares about you? He doesn't. He's just another fucking liar!" Her breath hitched as anger and something more profound, fear, maybe, sharpened her tone. "Just like all of them!"
Caleb froze at the bottom step, his spine rigid as if her accusation had struck him physically. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he sucked in a choppy breath, his lungs working against the knot tightening in his throat. But he didn't turn back. He couldn't. So, instead, he moved. One step. Then another. His feet hit the dirt path leading away from the house with a heavy finality. He didn't know where he was going, didn't care. He just had to go.
Anywhere but that house, which suddenly felt tainted. Polluted. A dark shadow where the brightest love once resided.
Caleb fought back the tears, Jenna's screams becoming muffled behind him. He couldn't break. Not now.
Then, suddenly, he heard it. The screech of tires on asphalt. Caleb's head snapped up. A car lurched to a stop inches from where he stood, its engine growling impatiently like some wild animal ready to pounce.
It was Nate's car.
The passenger-side window rolled down, revealing Ryan sitting inside. His grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to whiten his knuckles, and his blue eyes burned into Caleb. "Get in," Ryan barked, his voice sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument.
Caleb hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground even as every nerve in his body screamed at him to move. Behind him, Jenna's voice tore through, louder this time, raw with fury and something closer to panic. "Ryan! Get the hell out of that car and get back inside this house. Now!"
Ryan didn't so much as flinch. His gaze remained locked on Caleb like a laser cutting through steel. "Jesus Christ, nerd," he snapped, his tone teetering between frustration and urgency. "Do you wanna see him again or not?"
The question hit Caleb like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper as he turned back toward the house, the place that had been a sanctuary for as long as he could remember. Suddenly, Jenna looked smaller than she usually did, fragile even. But there was nothing delicate about how she stared at him now. Her eyes were wide and pleading, her hands trembling at her sides as though she wanted to reach out but couldn't bring herself to.
"Caleb," she said again, softer this time but no less intense. Her voice cracked under the weight of whatever she wasn't saying aloud. "He'll hurt you. They both will."
Caleb just stood there, a fleeting second that felt like an eternity. He looked at Jenna then, not just at the anger masking her fear or the way her lips pressed into a thin line to keep them from trembling, but at the truth so blatantly clear inside her eyes. She was alone. Utterly alone.
But Caleb was not.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and ran toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat and banging the door shut behind him.
Ryan didn't wait for confirmation. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal without glancing in Caleb's direction. The car jolted forward with a roar of power, sending Caleb pressing back into his seat as they sped down the uneven road.
Behind them, Jenna's screams chased after them like ghosts until they were swallowed by distance and darkness.
*
Hours later, the silence inside the car was deafening compared to the chaos they'd left behind. Caleb stared out the window, watching as trees blurred together into shadowy shapes against an indigo sky streaked with stars.
Finally, after what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than minutes, Ryan broke it.
"You sure about this?" he asked gruffly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead but loosening his death grip on the wheel just slightly.
Caleb released a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He didn't answer right away, not because he doubted himself but because, for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped by doubt.
"Yeah," he said finally, his voice quiet but steady as steel. "I'm sure."
Ryan nodded once and pressed harder on the accelerator. The occasional flash of headlights from passing cars punctuated the otherwise empty expanse, their beams slicing through the darkness like fleeting whispers of company. Ryan's hands were locked on the steering wheel, and his grip was so tight that it felt like he was trying to anchor himself to keep from unraveling entirely. His jaw was clenched with such force that it sent a dull ache radiating to his temples, but he didn't care. The pain was grounding in a way his thoughts weren't. His mind kept circling back to the same thought, over and over again, like a cruel mantra he couldn't escape.
He'd seen it coming.
He knew.
There had been signs for weeks, subtle but unmistakable. The way Nate's eyes wandered off. The way he'd started avoiding Ryan's gaze during sex. And then there was the tension in Nate's every movement, shoulders hunched as if bracing for some inevitable blow. Ryan had noticed all of it. Felt all of it. But knowing didn't soften the impact when the moment finally came.
It still hit like a sucker punch to the gut.
Ryan tore his gaze from the road for a brief second to glance at Caleb in the passenger seat. He slumped against the door, his forehead resting on the glass window. His arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, not for warmth but as if holding himself together by sheer will. The neon lights from passing roadside signs flickered across his face, brightening hollow eyes that stared out into nothingness. Caleb hadn't said a word since they left. Not one damn word.
That silence unnerved Ryan more than anything else.
"Fuck," Ryan muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his messy dark hair before gripping the wheel again. He wanted to say anything to break this unbearable quiet, but no words came. What could he even say? Hey, your dad bailed on us, and we both feel like shit about it. Care to share your thoughts?
Yeah, that'd go over well.
So things stayed quiet until Ryan spotted a gas station up ahead, its buzzing sign casting pale green light onto the cracked concrete lot below. The sight of it felt like a slight reprieve, a chance to pause this endless drive toward nowhere and breathe for half a second.
"I'm pulling over," Ryan said gruffly, his voice breaking through the quiet like a splash of cold water.
Caleb didn't move or even acknowledge him. He just kept staring out the window with that haunted look.
Ryan sighed heavily as he eased the car off the road and into the station's lot, stopping beside one of the pumps. He swiftly drove into the park and unbuckled his seatbelt, twisting his seat to look at Caleb more directly. "Listen," he said, trying to keep his tone steady despite the frustration bubbling underneath. "I'll fill up the tank. You go inside and grab something to eat or drink or…whatever."
Caleb blinked slowly, as though processing the words took more effort than it should have. His lips parted slightly like he might say something, but no sound came out.
Ryan softened his voice instinctively, leaning closer without realizing it. "Caleb," he repeated, quieter but no less firm this time. "Go inside."
For a moment, he thought Caleb might ignore him entirely, that he'd stay frozen in that seat forever, lost in whatever dark place his mind had wandered to. But then Caleb barely nodded and pushed open the door with sluggish movements. Ryan watched him unfold himself from the seat and step out, his movements stiff as though every step took conscious effort. Caleb's shoulders were hunched against an invisible weight as he shuffled toward the small diner attached to the gas station.
Only when Caleb disappeared inside did Ryan let out a long breath. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, briefly surrendering to exhaustion, before forcing himself upright again. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and headed toward the pump. Somewhere deep down, Ryan knew this stop wouldn't fix anything, not really. But right now? It was all they had.
The diner was a relic of another time, untouched by the decades slipping past outside its smudged windows. The old jukebox in the corner played a scratchy tune no one was listening to, and the air smelled of burnt coffee and fried grease. The linoleum floors were scuffed and dulled. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, its blades creaking with every rotation. It was nearly empty, save for a lone trucker nursing a cup of coffee in the far corner, his weathered hands wrapped around the ceramic mug like it was a lifeline. His hat was pulled low over his eyes. Behind the counter stood a waitress with tired eyes and a slouched posture, her back leaning against the scratched chrome. Her name tag read "Linda," though it had been pinned upside-down, and she absently rubbed at a stain on her apron as her gaze drifted somewhere far beyond this quiet little stop.
Ryan sat across from Caleb, his knee bouncing beneath the table like a piston that couldn't quit. He couldn't help it. His nerves had been frayed down to raw edges over the last few hours. Every sound felt too loud: the clink of a fork against an empty plate, the hiss of steam from behind the counter as a fresh pot of coffee brewed. His hand tightly gripped his mug's handle. The scalding liquid inside had long gone lukewarm, but he sipped at it anyway, trying and failing to enjoy it.
He glanced at Caleb, shoulders slumped forward, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His head hung low, hair falling into his eyes, which remained fixed on the untouched coffee in front of him. The steam wafted up in thin curls, dissipating into nothingness, a cruel metaphor for how Caleb looked: fragile and fleeting.
"Hey," Ryan said suddenly, trying to inject some levity into his voice even though it felt foreign in his throat. "It's gonna be fine." He paused for effect before adding with a wry grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I stole some of her money before we left." Ryan waited for Caleb to react, maybe with a smirk or even a sarcastic quip about how Jenna would kill them both. But there was nothing. Caleb didn't move. He didn't blink. He didn't even seem to breathe.
Ryan's grin faltered, his frustration flaring hot in his chest. He leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his head to catch Caleb's downcast gaze. "Alright, nerd," he said with forced playfulness. "Say something. Anything."
For a moment, he thought Caleb might not answer at all. But then, slowly, achingly slowly, Caleb lifted his eyes. They glistened, unshed tears pooling at their edges but refusing to spill over. His gaze was distant and unfocused as if he wasn't looking at Ryan but through him instead.
Ryan's chest tightened painfully at the sight. He scoffed uncomfortably, trying to push past it with humor that felt cheap even as he spoke it aloud. "Jesus," he muttered with a shake of his head, "no wonder he wanted to toughen you up."
Regret slammed into him the second he said it. He immediately saw the change in Caleb. His posture stiffened, and his body recoiled against the back of the booth as though Ryan had physically struck him.
"Shit," Ryan muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face as if he could wipe away what he'd just said along with his own guilt. "I didn't mean that," he added quickly but quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Look...I get it," Ryan tried again after a long pause, forcing himself to meet Caleb's guarded gaze. "I know you're worried," he continued softly but firmly. "I know this is…a lot. But we can't just sit here and fall apart."
Still nothing.
Ryan leaned back slightly but kept his eyes locked on Caleb's face as though willing him to respond through sheer determination alone. "We just...need a plan," he said finally, "a lead or something."
For what felt like an eternity, Caleb remained perfectly still, so still that Ryan wondered if he'd even heard him or if he'd retreated so far into himself that nothing could pull him back out again.
But then…movement. Caleb's lips parted ever so slightly before closing again as though he were testing whether he could speak without breaking completely apart first.
"I know a guy," he whispered.
Ryan blinked in surprise at the sudden revelation but quickly masked it with curiosity instead. "What?" he asked cautiously.
Caleb swallowed hard enough for Ryan to see the movement in his throat before speaking again, his voice quieter now but steady sufficient to carry conviction beneath its fragility. "A friend of my dad's," he explained haltingly. "They were close. Like...really close." Ryan frowned slightly at Caleb's tone but didn't interrupt. Instead, he let him finish at his own pace. "He moved," Caleb continued after another brief pause filled only by their breathing and distant jukebox hums from across the diner floor behind them, "…but I know where."
Ryan straightened in his seat, the worn edge of the diner booth creaking faintly beneath him. His pulse kicked up, thudding in his chest like a drumbeat he couldn't control. "You sure?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, as if testing Caleb's answer before it even came.
Caleb nodded, the movement subtle but deliberate. The sharp line of his jaw tightened for a moment, his lips pressing before parting again. "Yeah," he said quietly.
Ryan stared at him for a beat longer than he probably should have, searching Caleb's expression for any flicker of doubt. But there was none. Caleb's eyes held steady, that deep, quiet intensity that always made Ryan feel like he was being seen entirely, like there was nowhere to hide. And then, for the first time in what felt like days, weeks, maybe, Ryan smiled. It wasn't one of those half-hearted attempts he'd been forcing lately. No, this was different. This grin was sharp and boyish and entirely unguarded, breaking across his face like sunlight after a storm.
"Well," he said, tossing a couple of crumpled bills onto the table without looking at them. "That settles it." He leaned back leisurely, stretching his arms behind his head with an exaggerated motion that made Caleb arch an eyebrow.
"What are you doing?" Caleb asked, his tone dry but tinged with amusement as he tilted his head slightly.
Ryan shrugged as if the answer were obvious. "Relaxing," he said. "Can't a guy enjoy one small victory?"
*
Ryan had chosen the spot deliberately. The campground's lot was mostly empty at this hour, save for a few scattered RVs and tents huddled in the shadowy distance. He had parked far from them, in a forgotten corner, and no one would notice two figures sitting quietly in the dark. They didn't belong anywhere else tonight.
Neither of them had spoken much since leaving the diner. Words felt too fragile to carry their feelings, so they let silence do the heavy lifting. The seats were reclined just enough to suggest they might try to sleep at some point, though neither seemed particularly interested. Ryan's body was angled slightly toward Caleb's, his arm resting on his stomach, while Caleb leaned back against his own seat, his head tilted just enough to catch glimpses of Ryan out of the corner of his eye.
There were mere inches between them, physical inches. Despite the space, there was a closeness that couldn't be measured in distance. It was in how their shoulders almost brushed when either shifted even slightly and how their quiet breaths seemed to synchronize without effort. For a long time, they sat like that, letting the silence hold them.
Finally, Caleb exhaled softly through his nose and broke it. His voice was quiet when he spoke as if he were testing the weight of each word before letting it leave his mouth.
"What's the plan?" he asked. His gaze remained fixed somewhere outside the window, a vague point. "What happens when, or if, we find him?"
Ryan's fingers twitched where they rested against his hoodie. He'd been absently tracing small circles over the fabric without realizing it, a nervous habit he hadn't quite shaken since childhood. At Caleb's words, his breath caught for just a moment before he forced himself to respond.
"I don't know," he admitted after a beat too long of hesitation. His voice came out rougher than he intended, barely more than a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it feel more real. "I haven't thought that far yet."
Caleb let out a soft sound, something caught between a scoff and a resigned sigh, and shook his head minutely as though trying to dislodge some thought that wouldn't leave him alone. His lips quirked upward briefly in what might have been a bitter smile before falling flat again.
"Figures," he muttered under his breath, though there wasn't any real bite in his tone, only weariness and something Ryan couldn't quite name. He shifted slightly in his seat, then leaned back further and turned his head toward the window on his side of the car.
Ryan found himself watching Caleb without really intending to, taking in the gentle flutter of his lashes with each quiet blink and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest as if oblivious to whatever inner turmoil lay behind those serene eyes. He couldn't help but notice how Caleb's lips would press together tightly for an instant, then soften as if whispering secrets too burdensome to voice. This wasn't the first time Ryan had stared like this, trying to etch every detail into memory as though it might slip away at any moment, but tonight felt different as if threaded with a kind of urgency he'd never known. His fingers twitched within the soft fabric of his hoodie and moved before he could even register why or how.
Ryan reached out tentatively, unaware of what was driving him, hovering just above Caleb's mouth. His hand shook slightly as his fingertips glided over the air, tracing Caleb's lips, never quite making contact but feeling the tension between them, a gesture more about intent than touch, like a silent conversation only they could hear.
Caleb remained still, almost statuesque, and Ryan briefly wondered if he'd stopped breathing. In that suspended moment when time seemed to hold its breath, every other perception vanished: the muted glow of moonlight outside, the lullaby rhythm of distant crickets' songs, even Ryan's own heartbeat softened into silence except for this singular point where their worlds nearly joined.
Then awareness hit him like a wave crashing against rocks, sudden, cold, and extinguished sensations looming too intensely close to ignite.
Abruptly yet carefully, Ryan withdrew, not enough to be blunt but cautious enough that it felt like stepping back from an unseen line he didn't mean to cross. He released a shaky sigh as he rolled onto his side with pretend casualness, feigning preparation for sleep. His eyes squeezed shut tightly against everything threatening to bubble up inside him. The questions left unanswered, emotions left unspoken, touches left unfinished, and he focused instead on forcing his breathing to slow down again.
Caleb shifted beside him, and then a quiet rustling sound broke through Ryan's frantic thoughts, but he said nothing about what had happened. Instead, they both sank back into uneasy silence once more until eventually, even briefly, the night lulled them into a restless sleep filled with dreams they wouldn't remember come morning but would feel lingering anyway like echoes of something half-forgotten yet impossibly important lingering out of reach.
*
Ryan stirred first, his face pressed against something warm and solid. For a moment, he lingered in that half-dream state where reality felt distant and unimportant. But as awareness crept in, he blinked groggily, his eyelids heavy and reluctant to part. His head throbbed faintly with the dull ache from a restless sleep in an awkward position.
Then he felt it, a dampness on his cheek.
He jerked upright, his hand flying to his face. His fingers brushed against the wet spot on his skin, and the realization hit like a bucket of cold water. A groan escaped him as he wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie, mortified. His gaze darted sideways, and there was Caleb, still asleep, his head tilted slightly toward the window, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Ryan's stomach churned as he noticed the small dark patch of drool on Caleb's shoulder where he'd been leaning.
"Shit," Ryan muttered under his breath, glancing around as if someone might've witnessed his embarrassing slip-up despite their isolation. He reached out cautiously, his movements careful and deliberate, using the edge of his sleeve to dab at Caleb's shirt. The fabric resisted slightly under his clumsy attempts to dry it, but he persisted.
As if sensing the disturbance in his personal space, Caleb stirred. His brow furrowed first, a faint line forming between them before his eyes fluttered open slowly. They were hazy with sleep but sharp enough to catch Ryan mid-wipe.
Ryan froze like a deer caught in headlights before clearing his throat and hastily sitting up straighter. "Gotta take a leak," he muttered gruffly, avoiding eye contact as he continued wiping at the corner of his mouth like it might erase the whole situation.
Caleb blinked at him blearily, rubbing one hand over his face while pushing himself upright with the other. His voice came out thick with sleep. "Okay." He paused to yawn before squinting at Ryan again. "Where's my phone?"
Ryan stretched deliberately, buying time as he swung open the car door. "I stuffed it in your backpack last night," he replied over his shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him with a dull thud.
The gravel crunched under Ryan's shoes as he approached the campground's communal restrooms. Once inside, he wasted no time splashing cold water onto his face at one of the sinks. The shock of it jolted him fully awake, washing away traces of grogginess and any lingering humiliation from earlier. He momentarily braced himself against the sink's edge, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror above it. His dark hair stuck out in every direction, and faint shadows underlined his blue eyes. With a sigh, he ran a hand through the unruly mess atop his head, coaxing it into some semblance of order before brushing his teeth quickly.
Something immediately felt wrong as he stepped back outside and into the chill morning air.
His body tensed instinctively as his eyes locked onto Caleb pacing near the car. His phone was pressed tightly against one ear, and he gestured sharply with his free hand. Even from this distance, Ryan could sense something was off, not just in Caleb's body language but also in the clipped urgency of his voice. His stomach twisted uneasily as he strained to make out Caleb's words, or rather her words. Jenna's voice crackled faintly through the phone speaker, even from where Ryan was standing.
It wasn't what she said. It was how she said it, sharp yet unnervingly smooth, her tone too measured to be genuine. Every syllable dripped with an unsettling calmness that set Ryan's teeth on edge.
She was stalling Caleb.
Ryan's blood turned to ice. He lunged forward without giving himself time to think.
"Hey, what are you...?" Caleb barely managed to utter before Ryan snatched the phone out of his hand.
He hurled the phone downward with all his strength. The sharp sound of glass shattering against pavement pierced through the stillness like breaking ice over water. He kicked at the device's remains until it skidded across the ground and disappeared into the treeline beyond.
"What the fuck, Ryan?!" Caleb exploded beside him, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step or two. His face flushed red with fury as he gestured wildly toward where his phone had vanished moments ago. "That was my phone!"
"Why did you call her?" Ryan asked.
"I just wanted..." Caleb stammered, his anger faltering under the weight of Ryan's gaze. "I thought maybe she'd heard something about him."
Ryan didn't flinch. Instead, he instantly closed the gap between them and firmly grabbed Caleb by both shoulders, stopping him mid-rant.
"The call was being traced." Ryan snapped urgently, his blue eyes boring into Caleb's with an intensity that left no room for doubt or argument.
Caleb froze beneath Ryan's hands as if those words had turned him to stone. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment before he managed to find his voice again, though it wavered with confusion and disbelief.
"Why would Jenna be tracing the call?" Caleb questioned as the realization began to dawn on him.
"Not her, you idiot. The cops," Ryan said, exhaling sharply through clenched teeth before letting go and turning away abruptly toward their car as if answering would cost him something precious. "Get in," he said curtly over one shoulder while yanking the driver's side door open.
After several tense seconds filled only by labored breathing on both sides, Caleb relented reluctantly. He slid into the passenger seat wordlessly but didn't stop glaring daggers at Ryan from across their confined space. "Dude...why would the cops be after us?" Caleb questioned before sucking in a sharp breath like someone had struck him squarely in the chest without warning.
"They're not after us," Ryan replied.
"Ryan..." Caleb stuttered, his voice cracking.
Ryan paused, his blue eyes staring at the road. He leaned back on his seat, exhaling deeply before the words finally left his mouth.
"They're after Nate."
(To be continued...)
Casual Wanderer © 2025
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