the spaces between

what doesn't break

as the final period came around, isa found herself sat next to nick in chemistry class, her laptop open with the experiment assignment. they seemed to be talking like normal, things that friends talk about. for once it seemed somewhat directed away from matt. but isa was curious, she wondered why he talked to her, why he tried.
"hey, you know how matt's not been talking to me?" she paused, intending on continuing, but nick interrupted that.

"he's been like that since you left, you know? muted." 

his words hung over her, a sense of guilt over her. she shrugged. "what do you mean? we talked a bit earlier and he seemed fine."

nick didn't even look hopeful that they had spoken. his eyes met hers. "he's not okay."

isa let that sentence ring in her mind and she glanced at matt and ruby across the lab. he's laughing at something ruby had said — but it didnt seem to reach his eyes.
she let her gaze fix on him, trying to figure this out. the longer she stared, the worse she felt for even leaving for spain in the first place. unexpectedly, his eyes met hers and he managed a smile, one that his eyes reacted to aswell. she smiled back, and was about to hold her thumb up to see if he was okay — but his gaze was averted. she sighed and looked at nick, who was now reaching for the beakers on the tray.

after school, isa sat on the bleachers, her laptop resting on her knees as she scrolled through her study board. the hum of luca's track practice filled the air, but she wasn't really paying attention. she heard footsteps crunching on the gravel nearby but didn't look up. probably someone else.

then, a shadow fell across her laptop—a familiar pair of black sneakers, sweatpants, and a hand resting lightly on the bench beside her. she glanced up slowly, meeting matt's uncertain gaze.

"hey," he said quietly, voice low, almost hesitant.

isa didn't say anything.

"i owe you a real answer," matt said, running a hand through his hair. "about this summer."

he looked down, then back at her, like searching for the right words.

"when you left, it felt like everything paused for me. like i was stuck, and stupid, not knowing how to welcome you back."

he swallowed. "you looked so... real. and i didn't. i didn't know how to match that."

isa's eyes flickered with hurt. "you didn't have to match anything. you just had to show up."

matt's voice softened. "i wanted to. i was just scared i'd mess up again."

she stayed silent for a moment, the tension shifting but still lingering. it wasn't a fix, not yet—but it was a start.

matt gave a small, hopeful smile. "thanks for listening."

isa nodded, finally closing her laptop.

isa sat cross-legged on the worn wooden floor of her bedroom, the weight of the guitar familiar and heavy in her lap. dust motes drifted lazily in the afternoon light spilling through the half-open window, and a faint breeze stirred the thin curtains. the strings beneath her fingers felt rough and unyielding, out of tune from weeks of neglect.

she hesitated for a moment, then gently plucked a note—soft and tentative. it hung in the air, fragile and unsure. she tried again, weaving a simple melody that stumbled forward, halting and uneven. the rhythm wasn't steady, her fingers fumbling as if relearning an old language.

words escaped her. there was no song yet, only the raw edges of sound and feeling. she paused, closed her eyes, and let the notes echo in the quiet room. the silence was thick, but it wasn't empty. it held something, a space waiting to be filled.

a half-formed melody teased the edges of her mind, slipping in and out of reach. isa strummed the strings softly, coaxing out a pattern—something melancholy but hopeful, a breath between sadness and light.

she thought of the summer, the distance, and the weight of things left unsaid. the guitar felt like a bridge she could almost cross, a way to make sense of everything tangled inside her.

slowly, she started to hum along, tentative at first, then with more confidence. the music wasn't perfect—nothing was—but it was hers. in that quiet room, with dusty strings and a fragile song beginning to bloom, isa felt like she was breathing again.

her moment was interrupted by a piercing buzz of her phone.

matt lay in bed, headphones cocooning him in silence. his mind kept replaying that moment—weeks ago now—when isa stepped out of the car.

he remembered how he froze, how the world narrowed to that unreadable look she gave him, and how he'd lost the words before they even formed.

his fingers hovered over his phone screen, typing out a message, then hesitating, deleting it.

finally, he typed a single line:

"i never stopped being glad you came home."

he hit send but didn't wait for a reply. he just let the message sit there, a small piece of himself finally reaching out into the quiet night.

- chlo speaks!

i need holiday fits im off to barbados woooo

pleaaase dont be a dry reader!