CHAPTER 7: AFTER THE NOISE
958 Words
The night after the football game doesn’t feel like a celebration anymore.
It feels quieter than it should.
Seabrook is almost asleep when I get home, but my mind isn’t. It keeps replaying small moments I don’t want to think about too closely. The way Nikolai Hayes smiled at me like I was something steady in his day. The way that same smile softened when Vivienne Collins took his hand.
Two versions of the same person. Same boy. Different places in his life.
I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling, trying not to turn it into something bigger than it is.
Trying fails.
⸻
The next day at school, everything is back to normal like nothing important happened.
That’s the worst part.
The hallways are loud again, lockers slamming, people talking over each other, someone laughing too hard near the stairs. It all feels the same, but I don’t.
I see Nikolai first near the English hallway.
He’s talking to a teammate, still carrying the leftover energy from last night’s win. When he spots me, his face lights up immediately.
“Hey,” he says, walking toward me like there is no distance between us at all.
“Hey,” I answer.
For a second, it feels like it always used to.
Easy. Familiar. Safe.
Then Vivienne appears behind him.
Not interrupting. Not rushing. Just there.
And everything shifts without anyone saying a word.
Nikolai turns slightly toward her when she reaches them, like it’s automatic. Like his attention knows where it belongs even when he’s not thinking about it.
She smiles at him, soft and natural. “Ready for practice later?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Coach is probably going to talk for an hour again.”
She laughs.
I laugh too, a little later than I should.
It doesn’t sound like mine.
⸻
I don’t realize I’m walking slower until Iñigo Flores falls into step beside me.
“You’re quiet today,” he says.
“I’m always quiet,” I reply.
“That’s not true,” he says simply.
I glance at him.
He’s not looking at me like he’s trying to fix anything. Just like he’s noticing.
That feels different in a way I can’t explain.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
Iñigo nods once, like he hears what I say and also what I don’t.
“Okay,” he replies. “But you don’t sound like you’re fine.”
I don’t respond to that.
We keep walking.
⸻
Lunch feels louder than usual.
Sofia is talking about the game again, reenacting moments with dramatic hand gestures. Vivienne is laughing at something she says. Nikolai is arguing about a missed call from the referee like it personally offended him.
It should feel normal.
It almost does.
But I keep noticing the way everything fits together.
The way Vivienne and Nikolai naturally lean toward each other when they talk.
The way I’m still here, technically part of it, but not always inside it.
I stare at my food longer than necessary.
I don’t eat much.
Iñigo sits across from me like he has been there all along.
At some point, he slides his drink closer to me without saying anything.
A small gesture.
No explanation.
No attention drawn to it.
Just there.
I notice it anyway.
⸻
After school, I don’t go straight home.
I end up at the beach again.
It’s becoming a habit I don’t remember choosing.
The wind is colder now, sharper, pulling at my jacket as I walk along the shoreline. The ocean is restless, darker than yesterday, like it’s holding onto something it doesn’t want to release.
I don’t hear footsteps behind me at first.
Iñigo appears beside me like he always does—quiet, unannounced, like he already knew I’d be here.
“You keep ending up in the same places,” he says.
I stop walking. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” he replies. “It just means you don’t really want to go anywhere else.”
That lands somewhere I don’t expect.
I look at him.
He’s watching the ocean, not me this time.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admit quietly.
It comes out before I can stop it.
Iñigo doesn’t react like it’s strange.
He just nods once.
“That’s honest,” he says.
I kick at the wet sand lightly. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Most things don’t,” he replies.
That makes me almost laugh, but it doesn’t fully happen.
The wind moves between us.
I feel everything I’ve been ignoring all day pressing closer again.
Nikolai smiling at me.
Nikolai smiling at her.
Me standing somewhere in between like I belong there just because I’ve always been there.
“I think I’m stuck,” I say.
Iñigo turns his head slightly now, finally looking at me.
“Stuck how?”
I hesitate.
Because saying it makes it real.
But I say it anyway.
“Like I’m waiting for something that already changed.”
Silence follows.
Not uncomfortable.
Just heavy.
Iñigo doesn’t rush to fill it.
He never does.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower.
“Then maybe you stop waiting,” he says.
I swallow.
“That sounds easy when you say it.”
He gives a small, almost quiet smile. “It’s not easy. I just think you already know the answer.”
I look away toward the water again.
Because I do.
I just don’t like it yet.
⸻
We stand there a while longer without talking.
The tide keeps moving like it doesn’t care about any of this.
And I think that might be what hurts the most.
Everything continues.
Even when I don’t.
- Writer
