Back To You;

CHAPTER 14

The first 3 months had been easy. It felt like we were two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync. Lauren and I were in each other’s worlds—laughing in the hallways, texting late at night about nothing and everything. We spent days hanging out, lost in the simplicity of just being together.

I remember the sound of his laugh echoing in my mind when I’d close my eyes. It was that kind of laugh—the one that made everything feel like it would be okay, no matter how bad the day had been.

But now, as I sat alone in the quiet corner of the school library, I found myself wondering when everything had started to change.

It wasn’t loud. There wasn’t a sudden fight or an explosive argument that marked the shift. It wasn’t even a noticeable thing at first. It just started to feel like we were both becoming so busy, so caught up in our own lives, that the spaces between us grew wider each day without either of us saying a word.

I would wait for his text, but it would never come until hours later, often just a quick, "Hey, I'm swamped, talk soon." His replies had become shorter, almost mechanical. And when we did manage to see each other, it wasn’t the same. The spark we had felt so effortlessly in the beginning had started to feel distant, buried under the weight of our own schedules.

I started to feel it in the silence—those moments when we’d sit next to each other, but neither of us had anything to say. Or worse, when I tried to start a conversation, and it fizzled out quickly, like a flame that couldn’t stay lit.

The thing was, we weren’t doing anything “wrong.” It was just that we weren’t doing anything together anymore.

The drifting didn’t happen overnight, but it had become impossible to ignore.

Lauren was still Lauren—funny, warm, and the guy I’d once looked forward to seeing every day. But now, I only saw glimpses of that guy. There were the quick waves in the hallway, the brief smiles in class, but the moments when we’d sit and talk for hours felt like a distant memory.

It hurt more than I cared to admit.

I would try texting him. I’d send something lighthearted, like a meme or a joke, just to break the silence. But the responses were short—too short—and I found myself checking my phone every few minutes, hoping for something more.

The worst part was that he never seemed to notice.

Maybe he was busy—too busy with dance practice, too busy with his senior projects, too busy with the gym, too busy with his friends. I understood that, but it didn’t stop the emptiness that was beginning to take root.

One day, I saw him talking to Belle in the hallway after class. I watched from a distance as they laughed, their voices blending into the buzz of the other students, and I couldn’t help but feel this tight knot in my chest.

They looked comfortable with each other, like they had all the time in the world to talk and laugh. I didn’t want to admit it, but I felt a pang of jealousy. Not because of Belle—she was sweet, and I liked her—but because it made me realize just how much I missed the way things used to be with Lauren.

I quickly turned and walked the other way, pretending I hadn’t seen them. My heart was heavy, and my thoughts were jumbled.

Had I done something wrong? Had I pushed him away without even realizing it?

Those days turned into weeks. The texts between us became sparse, the conversations brief. It wasn’t that we weren’t still together, but we weren’t together anymore. Not in the way we used to be. It felt like the moments when we would sit down and just be with each other were slipping through our fingers like sand.

It wasn’t about a lack of love—because I still loved him, more than I could put into words—it was just that we had both become so consumed by our own lives that we’d lost the rhythm we once had. I started to wonder if this was what always happened—if the fire eventually dimmed because life just got in the way.

But I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing him.

I would catch myself staring at my phone, waiting for a text from him, even though I knew he was probably busy. But I couldn’t help it. I needed something.

Then one day, I was walking home after a particularly long day, and I saw him again. He was standing by the gates, talking with Belle, and I couldn’t help but feel the ache in my chest grow.

As I walked past them, Lauren looked up, his eyes catching mine for a brief moment, but he didn’t call out. He didn’t even wave.

And I kept walking.

It was silly, but it stung. The distance between us felt more real than ever.

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