The routine had become comfortable, like the quiet hum of a familiar song in the background. Ocean had grown used to seeing Skyler in the mornings, his easy smile waiting at their usual spot in the library, his quiet company in the art room, the gentle conversations that had slowly begun to fill the once-empty spaces in Ocean's life. It was a routine he hadn't realized he had come to rely on.
But today, Skyler wasn't there.
Ocean noticed it as soon as he walked into the school, the absence of that familiar presence like a missing note in a melody. He brushed it off at first—people missed class from time to time. Skyler was probably busy, maybe caught up in something important. Ocean told himself not to overthink it.
But by the end of the day, after wandering through the halls and the library, when Skyler still didn't show up, a small seed of unease planted itself in Ocean's chest. It was a subtle discomfort, a whisper in the back of his mind. Still, Ocean pushed it aside. It's just one day. He'll be back tomorrow.
But the next day, Skyler wasn't there either. Or the day after that. Or the week after that.
Ocean tried to keep the anxiety at bay, tried to convince himself that Skyler would come back, that there was an explanation. But as the days turned into weeks, that quiet unease grew into something darker. It settled like a weight in his chest, heavy and suffocating.
Two months passed, and Skyler was gone.
It wasn't just that Skyler hadn't shown up. It was the complete absence of him, the way he had vanished without a word, without a trace, without a single explanation. The empty spaces where Skyler used to be became glaring reminders of the silence that now filled Ocean's days.
The library felt too quiet without Skyler's voice, the art room too empty without the soft scratch of his pencil. Ocean found himself standing in those familiar places, waiting, hoping to see that familiar face walk through the door. But it never happened.
Every time he entered their usual spots, Ocean's heart raced with anticipation, only for it to plummet when Skyler wasn't there. It was like a ghost was haunting him—the ghost of what had been and what could have been.
For the first time in a long time, Ocean felt lost.
Sitting alone at their spot in the library one afternoon, Ocean stared at the empty seat across from him, the same seat Skyler had occupied so many times before. His fingers traced the edge of the table absentmindedly, his thoughts a storm of confusion, anger, and hurt.
Where did you go? he wondered, his heart aching with the weight of the question. Why did you leave without saying anything?
Ocean had never let anyone in before. He had spent his entire life building walls, hiding behind silence, keeping people at a distance. But Skyler had been different. Skyler had slipped through those defenses, had shown Ocean that maybe—just maybe—it was okay to let someone in.
And now he was gone.
Without a word, without a single explanation, Skyler had disappeared, leaving Ocean alone with nothing but his own thoughts, his own fears, and the echo of Skyler's absence.
The days blurred together after that. Ocean went through the motions—attending class, doing assignments, sitting in the same spots he always had—but everything felt different now. The world felt dimmer, quieter, like something vital had been taken away.
And then came the doubts.
Had it all been a lie?
The question gnawed at him, whispering in the back of his mind like poison. Had Skyler ever really cared? Or had Ocean simply been another fleeting moment in Skyler's life, a brief distraction that had now been forgotten?
Ocean hated himself for thinking that. He hated the way the doubt crept in, the way it twisted inside him, feeding off his insecurities. He had never wanted to believe that someone like Skyler could hurt him, but the evidence was there—two months of silence, two months of nothing.
Skyler had promised he wasn't going anywhere.
But he had.
And Ocean was left with nothing but the hollow emptiness of that broken promise.
One evening, as Ocean sat in his small apartment, staring blankly at the books scattered across his desk, he felt the weight of it all crash down on him. The loneliness, the confusion, the anger—it was too much. He hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Skyler's presence, how much he had let Skyler into his world. And now, Skyler was gone, and Ocean didn't know what to do with the space he had left behind.
The worst part was that he didn't even know where Skyler had gone. He didn't know if Skyler had transferred schools, or moved away, or simply chosen to disappear from Ocean's life. He didn't know anything.
And that was what hurt the most.
For the first time, Ocean realized how little he knew about Skyler. Skyler had known so much about him—his fears, his insecurities, his silence—but Ocean had never really known Skyler. He had never asked the right questions, never pushed to know more. He had been content to let Skyler be the one who stayed, who understood, without ever fully understanding Skyler himself.
Now, that felt like a mistake. A mistake that weighed heavily on him.
Ocean clenched his fists, his breath shaky as he stared out the window at the city lights flickering in the distance. Why hadn't I asked more? Why didn't I try to know him better?
His chest tightened with anger—anger at himself for not opening up more, for letting Skyler get so close, and anger at Skyler for leaving without a word, without an explanation. It felt like a betrayal, and yet Ocean couldn't even be sure if it had been intentional. He didn't know anything anymore.
The days dragged on, each one heavier than the last, and with every passing moment, Ocean's fear of abandonment crept back in. This is why I never let anyone in, he thought bitterly, his heart aching with the familiar sting of regret. This is why I don't trust promises.
Skyler had been different. He had been the exception—the one person who made Ocean believe, even for a moment, that it was possible to trust again. But now, that belief felt shattered, the cracks in Ocean's heart widening with every day that Skyler didn't return.
Ocean tried to bury the hurt, tried to ignore the gnawing emptiness that followed him everywhere. But it wasn't easy. Every quiet moment reminded him of Skyler. Every time he walked past their usual spots, every time he sat alone at the table they had once shared, it reminded him of what was missing.
Skyler had become a part of his world. A part of him.
And now that he was gone, it felt like Ocean had lost a piece of himself.
One night, as Ocean lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He was tired—tired of the questions, tired of the silence, tired of waiting for someone who might never come back.
He had never known how much Skyler's presence had meant to him until it was gone. He had never known how deeply Skyler had woven himself into his life, into his routine, into his heart.
And now, Skyler's absence felt like a wound that wouldn't heal.
For the first time in years, Ocean allowed himself to feel the full weight of his emotions—the regret, the hurt, the anger. He had let someone in, and now he was paying the price. Skyler had left, just like everyone else had. And Ocean was left with nothing but the echoes of what could have been.
As the night stretched on, Ocean lay there in the quiet, the sound of the city outside a distant hum. His mind was filled with thoughts of Skyler, with the ache of missing someone he hadn't even realized he had come to care about so deeply.
And in the darkness, Ocean whispered the question that had been haunting him for weeks.
Where are you, Skyler?
But there was no answer. Only silence.
TBC. 🩵
