Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 50 | Only a matter of time now

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN dipped low over Elmwood Heights, casting long shadows that sprawled lazily across the school grounds. The golden light filtered through the trees, catching on the edges of leaves, creating a stark contrast between light and shadow. James walked quietly along the path that snaked behind the football field, the weight of his camera swinging gently against his chest. His fingers absentmindedly traced the smooth edges of the lens, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He could feel the eyes on him.

William was following him.

James had noticed him as soon as he'd slipped out of the school. He'd caught a glimpse of that familiar silhouette, standing by the gymnasium, watching as James ducked out the back entrance. It was obvious now—William was skipping basketball practice. It wasn't like William to skip anything, let alone a practice that he never missed. That meant only one thing: suspicion.

James couldn't help the thrill that surged through him at the thought. William was getting closer to the truth, circling around it like a moth drawn to the flame. The deaths of Ethan, Trent, Joel, and now Tyler—it had taken its toll on William, and James could see the cracks beginning to form. He could feel the tension in the way William moved, the subtle change in his demeanor. It was all so intoxicating.

As he walked further from the school, deeper into the woods where he often came to think, James slowed his pace deliberately, giving William time to follow. He didn't turn around—didn't need to. The rustle of footsteps behind him was enough. William was there, just out of sight, but close enough to feel the pull. James smirked to himself, his heart pounding with the anticipation of what was to come.

The trees opened up into a small clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. It was quiet here, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest, making the air feel heavier. James liked it—liked the way the world seemed to slow down in moments like these, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

He raised his camera, focusing on a tree branch that hung low, the leaves shifting gently in the breeze. The click of the shutter broke the stillness, a sharp sound that echoed through the clearing. James adjusted the focus, snapped another shot, then lowered the camera, glancing around casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

He knew William was watching.

James let his eyes drift, pretending to scan the horizon, pretending to be lost in the moment of capturing nature in its raw, unfiltered beauty. But every muscle in his body was alert, tense with the awareness that William was out there, hiding just beyond the trees, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

How ironic. The great William Carlisle—star athlete, golden boy—reduced to a silent observer, too paralyzed by fear and uncertainty to confront him directly. It was almost pathetic, but James found it strangely amusing.

There was another sound then, softer this time—the unmistakable crunch of leaves underfoot. William was moving closer, his presence palpable now, like a shadow creeping in from the edges of James' vision.

James' pulse quickened, but he kept his expression neutral, focused on the lens. He raised the camera again, framing the shot of a distant tree line, though his attention was fixed entirely on the figure lurking in his periphery. He waited, knowing that William was watching every move, waiting for some clue, some sign of what James was really up to.

But James wasn't going to give him anything.

Not yet.

Instead, he turned, slowly, as if finally sensing the presence behind him. His eyes scanned the trees, settling briefly on a spot just a few feet away where he knew William was hiding. For a moment, he let his gaze linger there, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as though he could see right through the trees, see right into William's thoughts.

Then, with deliberate slowness, James lifted his camera once more, the shutter clicking as he took another photo of the trees. He lowered the camera, sighing softly, letting the moment stretch out, knowing that William's frustration was building with every second that passed without confrontation.

James didn't need to see William's face to know what was going on in his head. He could imagine it—the way William's brow would be furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line of tension, his mind racing with a thousand questions that he didn't have the courage to ask.

It was perfect.

He could practically feel the confusion rolling off William in waves, could taste the bitterness of his inner turmoil, the gnawing uncertainty that was eating away at him day by day.

And James loved it.

He let the silence hang between them a little longer, savoring the knowledge that William was right there, watching him, trying to figure him out. Then, as if sensing that William had had enough, James straightened, turning slightly toward the trees where he knew William stood.

But instead of acknowledging him, instead of calling him out, James simply tucked his camera back into his bag and began to walk away. He didn't glance back, didn't give any indication that he knew William was there.

Because he wanted to leave William with that doubt, that gnawing uncertainty that would keep him awake at night. He wanted William to wonder if James had seen him or not. It was all part of the game.

As he made his way down the path, the trees closing in around him once more, James couldn't help but smirk to himself. He could still feel William's presence lingering in the clearing, could imagine the look of frustration on his face, the way he would eventually turn and leave, defeated once again by his own fear and indecision.

And that was the thing, wasn't it? William wanted answers, but he didn't have the guts to confront him. Not yet. He was too afraid—afraid of what he might find, afraid of the truth that lurked just beneath the surface. James knew that William was teetering on the edge, trapped between suspicion and denial, his mind trying to make sense of the impossible.

But eventually, William would have no choice but to face it.

And when that moment came, James would be ready.

For now, though, he had all the time in the world. William wasn't going anywhere. He would keep watching, keep following, keep trying to figure out the puzzle that James had laid before him.

And James would keep leading him along, step by step, until the final piece fell into place.

The sun was sinking lower now, casting long, deep shadows across the ground as James made his way back toward the town. The air was cooler, the breeze tugging at the edges of his jacket. He could still feel the rush of excitement coursing through him, the thrill of being watched, of knowing that William was so close to the truth and yet so far from understanding.

James' smirk deepened as he disappeared into the woods, leaving William alone with his thoughts.

It was only a matter of time now.