Submerge

H O P E

I love writing in Nate's POV!  he's kinda my fav character :)

enjoy!

N A T H A N

The neon glow of the city lights streamed through the window of our apartment, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls. It was late, but sleep felt like a distant dream. I lay on the couch, my thoughts a jumbled mess, predominantly revolving around Mason.

Living apart from him, focusing on my final year in college, had put a physical distance between us, but the emotional distance felt infinitely greater. I remembered our childhood, how we used to be inseparable. Now, it felt like Mason was on a different planet, one that I couldn't reach no matter how hard I tried.

Liam, my roommate and best friend, noticed my restlessness. "Still worried about Mason?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. Liam knew about Mason's struggles, about the loss of Emma, but I hadn't told him everything. How could I explain something I barely understood myself?

"Yeah," I replied, sitting up. "I just don't know how to help him."

Liam came over and sat beside me. "You're doing what you can, Nathan. But you can't blame yourself for not being able to fix everything."

I knew he was right, but the helplessness gnawed at me. Mason's pain was a constant source of worry, his increasing isolation, his refusal to talk about what he was going through, it all pointed to a storm brewing under the surface. And I felt powerless to stop it.

I often thought about bringing Mason here, to the apartment, away from the environment that seemed to be suffocating him. But I hesitated. Would uprooting him help, or would it only add to his stress?

The next morning, the city was buzzing with life, but inside me, there was a silence that I couldn't shake off. I headed to campus, my mind still on Mason. Throughout my lectures and meetings with professors, a part of me was always back at home, wondering what Mason was doing, how he was coping.

After classes, I called him, but as expected, it went to voicemail. The pattern had become predictable – my calls and texts, his silence. It was like reaching into a void.

Returning to the apartment that evening, Liam had an idea. "Why don't we invite Mason over this weekend? Just a casual hangout, nothing too intense. Maybe a change of scenery will do him some good."

I considered it. Maybe a casual setting, away from the memories and pain of our family home, could offer Mason a brief respite. Perhaps being around Liam and me, in a place that wasn't steeped in our shared past, might give him a sense of normalcy, even if just for a day.

I agreed, and we planned a low-key evening for Saturday. Pizza, video games, just like old times. A part of me knew it was a long shot, but I clung to that sliver of hope. If there was even a chance it could bring a moment of peace to Mason, it was worth trying.

That night, I sent Mason a text, an invitation without any pressure. I didn't expect a response, but at least he would know the door was open. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to my brother, wherever he was, whatever he was going through – I wouldn't give up on him. 

No matter how far he strayed, I'd be here, a beacon for him in the darkness.

--

Days passed with no word from Mason. Each silent hour stretched out like a relentless tide, pulling me further into a sea of worry. The apartment, usually a haven from the pressures of college life, felt more like a watchtower, a place where I stood guard, waiting for a sign that never came.

Liam noticed my growing anxiety. "You can't let this consume you, Nate," he said one evening as we sat with untouched dinner on the table. "You've done what you can."

He was right, but the sense of responsibility I felt for Mason was like a weight I couldn't shed. I kept replaying our last few conversations, searching for clues in Mason's words, his tone, anything that might reveal what was really going on in his head.

I had considered reaching out to our mom, but the thought brought a twinge of guilt. She was already dealing with so much – the loss of Emma, the strain of seeing Mason spiral. I didn't want to add to her burden, but keeping Mason's struggles to myself felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss.

On Thursday, I made another call, this time leaving a voicemail. "Hey, Mason, it's me again. Just checking in. We're still on for Saturday, right? Liam and I thought we could do a gaming night, like old times. Let me know, okay?"

I ended the call with a heavy heart, knowing the likelihood of a response was slim. Mason had built walls around himself, walls I was finding impossible to scale.

That night, I lay awake, the city's distant hum a stark contrast to the silence in our apartment. Liam was asleep, his breathing steady and calm. I envied his ability to find peace amidst the chaos.

My phone buzzed, a jolt in the quiet of the night. For a second, my heart raced with hope, but it was just a message from a classmate about a group project. Mason remained an enigma, his silence a language I couldn't decipher.

Saturday came, and with it, a mix of hope and apprehension. Liam and I set up the living room, stacking pizza boxes and setting up the gaming console. We tried to keep the mood light, but the unspoken question hung in the air – would Mason show up?

As the hours ticked by, the likelihood diminished. The controller lay idle in my hands, the screen's flickering images a blur. Liam threw me sympathetic glances, his earlier words of reassurance now replaced by silent support.

The clock struck ten, and the reality settled in. Mason wasn't coming. The disappointment was a familiar guest, but it stung all the same. I couldn't help but wonder where he was, what he was doing – if he was safe.

"We'll try again," Liam said, but his voice lacked conviction.

I nodded, though part of me wondered if our efforts were in vain. Was there a point in reaching out when all I grasped was air?

That night, as I stared out at the city lights, I made a decision. I would visit Mason tomorrow, face-to-face. No more calls, no more texts. It was time to breach the walls, to confront the silence that had grown between us.

I didn't know what I'd find, what state Mason would be in, but the uncertainty was better than the helplessness that had taken root in me. I had to try, for both our sakes. For the faint memory of a time when we were more than just brothers – we were best friends, allies against the world.

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