Until We Meet Again

Chapter Six: Far Apart

Monday dawned with a hollow feeling that wrapped itself around my heart as I walked through the school doors. Everything looked the same, but it didn't feel the same. The hallway, usually bustling with senior boys showing off or laughing too loudly, was noticeably subdued. Only a few familiar faces remained, boys who weren't able to fight, either too young, or physically could not. And even though I knew he wasn't here, I kept expecting to see Andrew's face, his grin lighting up the hallway as he made his way toward me.

My footsteps echoed louder than usual as I walked to my locker. I half-turned, instinctively, hoping to catch a glimpse of Andrew waving at me from across the hall. But he wasn't there. Instead, clusters of students moved past with heavy, silent eyes, heads down, their faces shadowed with the same sorrow I felt. Even in class, the absence was deafening. Many of the male teachers had left to serve, replaced by older instructors who had lived through the last war or a mix of young and older women. Lunch felt strange. Andrew and I always ate together, along with my cheerleading friends. We were always sneaking each other bites of food and finding something to laugh about, no matter what else was happening. Today, I sat with Rose, who tried her best to keep me company, but it just wasn't the same. Every sound felt distant, every laugh hollow. I kept reaching for the comfort of his familiar presence, but there was only the harsh reminder that he was miles away, training for things I didn't want to think about. Finally, English class arrived, and I felt the usual twinge of excitement, only for it to be dashed as I sat down at my desk. Our teacher's voice droned on, but my eyes kept drifting to the empty seat beside me. Andrew was supposed to be here, nudging my arm, sharing quiet jokes, making the world feel brighter. But the empty desk felt like a gaping hole, a reminder that even the simplest moments were changed now. When the bell rang, signalling the end of the day, I gathered my books and walked home, the dull ache in my chest growing heavier with each step. As soon as I got inside, I went straight to my room and sat at my desk, pulling out a piece of paper and pen. The emptiness of my day washed over me, making me realize how much I needed to reach out, to somehow bridge the miles between us.

So, I began to write, the ink flowing as I told him everything. I told him absolutely everything.

My dearest Andrew,

I hardly know where to begin. Today was my first day back at school since you left, and though the sun shone brightly, without you here, it felt dark. Nothing is the same, Andrew. It is as though the whole place has gone quiet, as if the walls themselves know you are gone and ache like I do.

I found myself looking for you everywhere, catching myself waiting for that bright smile of yours to come leaping down the hall, or for that cheeky wink you save just for me. Your seat next to mine was empty, just a lone desk, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes. I missed your whisper and the way you would glance over to see if I was looking, that little look in your eye that never failed to make me blush. The absence of your voice haunts me.

I miss your face, Andrew; I miss your laugh and the comfort of your presence. I didn't realize how many little things I counted on to get me through each day, how many of those little things were you. Without you here, it feels wrong.

But more than anything, you must promise me something, my love. I need you to be safe. Please, with everything in me, be careful. Be brave, but don't let that charming recklessness of yours get the best of you. Keep your head in the game, and come back to me, Andy. Come back, and I swear I will never let go.

Yours forever and always,
Margaret.

I carefully folded the letter, grabbing an envelope. My fingers lingered on the letter as if it were a piece of him. I held the letter against my chest for a moment, as if somehow he might feel it wherever he was. I sighed, tracing the edges of the envelope, feeling the weight of every word I had poured into it. With a shaky breath, I finally slipped it inside and sealed it up. His name, written in my neatest hand, looked so formal, yet so dear to me.