Ethan and Jacob: Wish You Were Here
by SalientLane
Chapter 18
I joined the chess club, the debate team, even the drama guild – anything to keep my mind off Jacob. Each checkmate, each argument, each line recited was a step away from him, or so I hoped. But in the silence that followed the applause, Jacob's absence echoed louder than before. My hands would shake, not from nerves, but from the craving to high-five him, to share another victory with my best friend, my confidant.
"Good job, Ethan," they'd say, and all I could do was nod, pretending their words filled the void. They never did.
In Québec, the snow fell softly, blanketing Vieux-Québec in a serene hush. Jacob stared out his window, where the world was muted and still, nothing like the vibrant canvas it used to be when he and I painted it with our laughter. His sketchbook lay open, pages empty as the winter sky. He'd pick up a pencil, then set it down, the lead untouched, the music of creation silenced. The songs we once sang together now tasted like ash on his tongue.
"Tu me manques, Ethan," he whispered to no one, the French phrase a secret between us, a bridge across the miles.
The days stretched into an aimless march of time. My grades were perfect, my acclaim piled up, but at night, I'd collapse onto my bed, feeling more broken than whole, reaching out for a boy who was far away. Success without Jacob felt like a betrayal, every trophy a weight rather than a triumph. I kept busy, too busy to think, yet in those rare moments of stillness, his name would bubble up, unbidden, a prayer for something lost.
"Jacob," I'd sigh, tracing the outline of the photo I kept hidden beneath my pillow, his smile frozen in time, promising adventures we had yet to embark upon.
And in Québec, Jacob opened his eyes to the same loneliness that had settled in his chest the day I left, an unwelcome guest overstaying its welcome.
Our parallel lives continued, mine filled with the noise of achievement, his with the silence of retreat. We were both waiting, holding our breaths for the tide to turn, for fate to intervene.
As winter melted into spring, the ache became a familiar companion, a shadow following my every step. I knew Jacob felt it too, a tether that refused to snap however much distance lay between us. It was love – a love that refused to be categorized, that didn't need labels to exist. It was the kind of love that whispered of reunion, even when everything else screamed goodbye.
"Un jour," I promised the stars, "we'll find our way back to each other."
"Un jour," Jacob echoed to the silent streets of Vieux-Québec, his heart syncing with mine across the expanse.
And so, we waited, suspended in the space between memories and dreams, where the possibility of 'us' remained alive, quietly breathing beneath the layers of longing and anticipation.
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