Between the Lines

(Part III) Twenty-seven - Calvin

"Come to an end..."

I don't give myself a chance to stop. I'm not done here yet. I can't be. I slow down to a fast walking pace. If that man who reported me got a good glimpse at me, I could be done for. As useless as the police can be in general, I'm sure they can at least put two and two together. A homeless teenager that matches the exact description to the missing case from two days ago. Even Lower-class could pull a stunt like that.

I'm tired. I'm starving. I'm low on motivation. I'm lonely. I'm somewhere I don't know and probably shouldn't know. I had a plan and every single part has fallen through. I know nothing more than I did, except that he is really gone. Oliver is gone. I don't know what gone means even, but God I don't think my heart can handle it.

I want to try harder, but now the local authorities are tipped off. I need to get in contact with someone... somehow. Before I go home. Before I give up and try to forget all of this happened. So Baylee doesn't have to break the news to me. So she doesn't have to tell me what happened when I eventually end up back there. At the library that was once ours.

Fuck. I kick a letterbox as I pass by what feels like the same house for the fifth time. I should do one last thing for him.

Even in the midday heat, I have my hood pulled up. I can feel the sweat soaking my shirt underneath, I just roll the sleeves up. My legs are practically giving out at this point. My hair is drenched. My feet hurt. My eyes hurt. Hurt... it hurts.

I walk towards the towns center. I need to find a radio, TV or a fresh newspaper, news preferably local is my last hope. Its my last move before I surrender. My final defence before I break. My body practically stops in front of the first place I find. A Cafe. I haul myself inside, there's no aircon. The air is heavy with the smell of aging, wet coffee grounds. There's a guy behind the counter who is sweating over a latte. There's a stack of papers on the counter.

"Are these the local?" I ask. I think he didn't see me there because he almost jumps out of his apron.

"Oh," he puts on the signature hospitality smile, "Sure are! Were you after one? Maybe a coffee too?"

I can feel him staring at my appearance. I get it. "Just a small double-shot cap, as many sugars as you can let me have."

He grabs a cup, writing on the side. "Double shot..." he mumbles than looks at me, "three sugars. And the paper too... $6.30 total!"

I pay, snag a paper and sit down in a corner over-looking the street. I immediately start skimming the headlines. Oliver... missing... reported. Nothing matches those. I look for anything; Oliver Night, Lower-class student, missing, Oliver, 18 yo, reported, dead, missing. Dead. Missing. Please... be missing. Just missing.

There's a catchy headline... 'Upper-class sighting in Lower-class'.

Shit... no this can't be right. I almost snap the paper shut when the barista boy steps up beside me. I fold the paper over. He casually hands me my cup and a plate of cake, smiles empathetically, then leaves.

Oh. That was nice.

I leave the paper closed. I don't think I need to know actually. I eat the cake. Then leave.

As I walk, I notice there's lots of people out, it is Saturday after all. I know I won't see him in these crowds, it hurts that I won't. I hate myself for not doing something that might lead to finding out what happened to him.

I don't even know what might have happened if I didn't leave, if I just stayed at home. If I just waited out my grounding. Maybe everything would seem the same from the outside. I would go to school and do absolutely nothing afterwards except maybe cry myself to sleep. Maybe my parents would have sent me to the school counsellor in hopes they can help. Or maybe they would do that thing where parents act overly nice to you and make you feel like a special case just to get you to open up to them. A part of me hates it that I'm here. A part of me thinks it might make things easier, for me at least. A part of me hates that I left home. Part of me hates that I need to leave. Even police custody is sounding a lot nicer than, well, the walk of shame.

But for now I have no direction, just wherever my mind takes me. I feel so useless. I came here to find Oliver. I found out maybe I don't want to. I mean, god, this doesn't look good. It would break me if this was all real.

The day rolls on and I get tired of walking, so I find a little space along the wall of a random building, slump down and sit on the dirty pavement. I pull my knees up to my chest and sit there with my arms covering my face. I stay like that. I don't want to move. I don't feel like I can dig myself out of this mess. I just wanted to find him and now I'm lost. I can't go back to my parents. I can't rely on Baylee. I'm known by authorities. I'm really fucked. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, slowly swelling across my waterline. My throat and eyes start to burn as I try to choke them back, but I fail, like I fail everyone.

I pick my head up and rest it back, against the wall, letting the frustrated tears streak down my face, "Oliver..."

- - -

The sky grows darker and darker. I should get up. I should leave before it gets too dark. I heave myself up and start walking in the general direction of the gate not knowing where I plan to go after I get there. My body feels heavy as I drag my feet along the pavement.

I repeatedly think to myself that I'm not giving up, but I still feel insanely useless as I walk towards the exit of the place that could have had answers for me. The repeating in my head slowly turns into me reciting all of the things I should've done, reminding me of all the stupid things I've done wrong from the moment I left Oliver. Fuck, even from before i left him. I can't get out of my own head. My body's complaining as I walk down unfamiliar roads but I feel like I have to leave now, after realising how stupid I am to come here in the first place. I don't like the answers I found. Good job Calvin you absolute fucking sook.

Dark purples invade the clouded sky and street lights flicker orange-light ahead of me as they turn on. I move out of the light and walk down the side of the road so people can't see me, im ashamed, broken and bordering of the edge of my own violent thoughts.

Everything just seems to be so wrong right now... and I have no idea what to do about it.