Between The Lines

Chapter 85: Solitude

Lane's POV: 

Lane sat at his desk, the usual chaos of school papers and assignments scattered around him. The absence of Rebecca's presence in his life was starting to weigh heavily on him. Each day felt longer, and the school corridors seemed emptier. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. How had things gotten so complicated?

His thoughts wandered back to the last time he saw her, storming out of the room, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. He had tried to explain himself, but she hadn't given him a chance. And now, the silence between them was unbearable.

"You're staring at that ceiling like it's going to give you all the answers," Matt's voice cut through his reverie.

Lane looked up to see his brother leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a concerned look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on my little brother," Matt said, stepping into the room. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," Lane muttered. "I feel like it too."

Matt pulled up a chair and sat down across from Lane. "Still no word from Rebecca?"

Lane shook his head. "No. And it's driving me crazy. I don't know how to fix this."

Matt sighed. "Sometimes, you have to give people space. Let her cool down."

"I know," Lane said, running a hand through his hair. "But I hate this. I hate not being able to talk to her, to explain everything."

Matt leaned forward. "You need to take care of yourself too, Lane. You can't keep beating yourself up over this."

"I just miss her," Lane admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like there's this huge void in my life without her."

Matt nodded. "I get it. But you have to stay strong. For her, and for yourself."

Lane looked down at his hands, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. "I'm trying, Matt. I really am."

"Good," Matt said, clapping a hand on Lane's shoulder. "And if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

"Thanks," Lane said, managing a small smile. "I appreciate it."

As Matt left, Lane's thoughts drifted back to Rebecca. He remembered the way she used to light up his day with her smile, the way her laugh could chase away his darkest moods. He missed her more than he could put into words.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment before typing out a message.

Lane: I miss you, Rebecca. I wish we could talk.

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send. He didn't know if she would respond, but he had to try. The silence was tearing him apart.

Hours passed, and still no response. Lane felt a pang of disappointment, but he knew he couldn't force her to talk to him. He had to respect her space, no matter how much it hurt.

He tried to distract himself with work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Rebecca. Every little thing reminded him of her – a song on the radio, a book on his shelf, even the scent of her perfume lingering on his jacket.

That night, as he lay in bed, Lane felt more alone than ever. The room seemed to close in on him, the silence deafening. He turned over, burying his face in his pillow, wishing for the day when things would go back to normal.

But deep down, he knew that normal was a long way off. And until then, he had to find a way to keep going, even if it felt like his world was falling apart.