Chasing Shadows

Chapter Thirty-Two: Fleeting Moments

The flickering glow of the television bathed Jonah's apartment in a soft light as he and Ethan sat on the worn couch, a spread of fast food laid out on the coffee table before them. The tantalizing aroma of greasy burgers and salty fries hung in the air, mingling with the faint sound of a sitcom playing in the background. Jonah was animated, regaling Ethan with tales of his latest escapades at work, his laughter echoing against the walls.

“...and then I told him, ‘If you think I’m going to clean up that mess, you’ve got another thing coming!’” Jonah exclaimed, his grin wide as he mimicked a dramatic expression. But when he glanced at Ethan, the smile faded. Ethan sat motionless, a half-eaten burger resting in his hand, his eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in a world of his own.

“Hey, Ethan,” Jonah said softly, his voice losing its playful edge. “You good, man?”

Ethan blinked, pulling himself from the depths of his thoughts. He forced a smile, but it felt strained and unnatural. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow, concern etching itself into his features. “Thinking, huh? That’s dangerous territory for you. You usually end up in some deep philosophical rabbit hole.” He chuckled lightly, hoping to draw Ethan back into the moment.

But Ethan didn’t respond, his gaze drifting back to the half-eaten food in his lap. He tried to focus on the crunch of the fries and the familiar flavor of the burger, but everything felt muted, overshadowed by the memories that clawed at him.

“Come on, dude. You can’t let my riveting storytelling put you to sleep. It’s not that boring, I promise.” Jonah nudged Ethan playfully, trying to shake him from his stupor.

“I’m just… tired,” Ethan replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a bite of his burger, the taste lingering on his tongue but failing to spark any real enjoyment.

“‘Tired’ is just code for ‘traumatized’ in your vocabulary, isn’t it?” Jonah shot back, his playful tone taking on a hint of concern. He leaned forward, studying Ethan with a furrowed brow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, I’m here for you.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to pretend everything’s okay.”

Ethan swallowed hard, the lump in his throat rising. He wanted to share what he felt—the fear, the guilt, the weight of what had happened. But as he opened his mouth, the words tangled in his throat, unable to break free.

“Yeah, I know,” he finally said, forcing a casual tone that felt forced. “It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

Jonah studied him for a moment, then sighed, shaking his head. “You’re not fooling anyone, Ethan. You look like you just walked out of a horror movie. Seriously, what’s going on?”

Ethan’s heart raced. The laughter, the jokes—they felt like a shield, a way to hide from the reality that pressed down on him. He didn’t want to drag Jonah into his darkness, didn’t want to taint their friendship with his turmoil.

“Really, it’s nothing,” Ethan insisted, but even he could hear the crack in his voice.

“Come on,” Jonah urged gently, leaning in closer, his tone more serious. “Ethan, I can see it in your eyes. You’re zoning out, like you’re somewhere else entirely. Just… talk to me. You’re not alone.”

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Jonah’s gaze was unwavering, filled with concern and empathy, and for a moment, Ethan felt the dam inside him waver. But as he looked at Jonah, he saw the glimmer of hope in his friend’s eyes, and the realization hit him hard. He couldn’t share the burden.