Forbidden II Arthur TV and Italian Bach

Chapter 8

Third Person:

Isaac paced the familiar confines of his room, the sunlight filtering through the blinds casting sharp lines across the floor. His mind was a turbulent sea of thoughts, each wave crashing against the rocky shores of his regrets and fears. It had been four weeks, almost a month, since the evening that had upended everything. The silence between him and Arthur felt like an insurmountable barrier.

The pub by the river, where he and Arthur had shared so many afternoons, seemed to mock him from a distance. Isaac hadn't been there since that fateful day, and the idea of returning was both a comfort and a torment. He wondered if Arthur might be there, nursing his own quiet pain, the same way Isaac was grappling with his own. But he couldn't bring himself to go, not with the lingering dread of facing Arthur's hurt and the truth of his own feelings.

The phone on Isaac's desk buzzed with a new message, but he ignored it, knowing it was likely from friends or family asking about his abrupt withdrawal from social life. He had turned into a ghost, haunting his own home, avoiding contact with anyone who might remind him of the mess he'd created. The distraction of a phone message couldn't alleviate the heaviness that settled over him every time he thought of Arthur.

Arthur, too, had been a ghost of sorts. He had thrown himself into his work filling any extra time filming videos for his channel, streaming, or helping one of his friends with their videos. Trying to fill the void left by Isaac's absence. The days were spent in a haze of frustration and sadness, punctuated by futile attempts to move on. He had stopped going to the pub, where he and Isaac had shared countless conversations. Instead, he found himself walking along the paths they used to explore together, hoping to catch a glimpse of a past that now seemed irrevocably lost.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Arthur found himself by a restaurant they both loved. They'd eat there after shooting an episode of the podcast. The podcast that no longer included Isaac, despite still having his name in the title. The cool breeze a small comfort against the weight of his thoughts. He stood at the edge, looking out over the water, where the golden hues of sunset merged into the darkening sky. It was the same spot where he and Isaac had often sat, their conversations flowing as freely as the river before them.

Arthur's mind was a jumble of unresolved emotions. The pain of Isaac's rejection was still fresh, but what cut deeper was the sudden silence—the complete absence of communication that had followed. It was as if Isaac had vanished into thin air, leaving Arthur to grapple with the echoes of their last moments together.

He thought of reaching out, of sending a message or calling, but the fear of being ignored or, worse, causing more pain held him back. The notion of seeing Isaac in person, of trying to bridge the chasm that had opened between them, felt both necessary and impossibly daunting.

From his vantage point on the sidewalk, Arthur saw the restaurant's lights flicker before turning off. He remembered how they used to sit at their favorite table, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm light on their conversations. The thought of Isaac being there, alone and struggling just like him, gnawed at Arthur's heart. But he couldn't bring himself to go. The idea of seeing Isaac and having their unspoken pain collide was too overwhelming.

As night fell, Arthur finally turned away from the middle eastern joint, his heart heavy with resignation. The quiet between them had become a constant companion, and he was unsure how to navigate the silence that had taken root in their lives. Each step he took away from the river felt like a step further from any possible resolution.

Back in his room, Isaac sat by his window, staring out at the same view. The shadows of the evening had deepened, and the world outside seemed to be slipping into a quiet night, much like his own inner turmoil. The loneliness of his room was both a sanctuary and a prison, a place where he could avoid the pain but also where the silence pressed down heavily on him.

He picked up his phone once more, hesitated, and then put it down again. The messages from friends and family remained unanswered, as did the texts from Arthur's number, which he had seen but couldn't bring himself to open. Each notification was a reminder of the space that had grown between them—a space he felt powerless to bridge.

As he lay in bed, the familiar hum of the city outside was a gentle lullaby, a contrast to the storm within. Isaac knew he needed to address the silence, to face the fears and regrets that had kept him from reaching out. But for now, the distance seemed insurmountable, and the comfort of his bed was the only solace he had.

In their separate worlds, both Arthur and Isaac were caught in the web of their own making. The absence of each other was a silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Neither could move forward without confronting the chasm between them, and yet each was paralyzed by the fear of what that confrontation might bring.

As they lay in their respective rooms, the silence between them was a poignant reminder of what had been lost and what might still be salvaged. They both longed for the connection they had shared, but the path to reconciliation seemed shrouded in uncertainty. The future, as it loomed, was a canvas yet to be painted—a reflection of the choices they would make and the courage they would need to find their way back to each other.

Authors Note: Sorry it's been so long since the last post, i've been busy. Also my posts might slow down because school is starting back up.