Frequencies of Us Chapter 42: Miles and a Move

Mateo POV

I’m walking home, my sneakers kicking rocks hard, dust puffing up in the dark. My chest feels empty, like someone scooped it out with a dull spoon, ever since I left Noah at school. That note—“Noah’s done with you”—crinkles in my pocket, heavy and cold, and my gut twists, sour and tight, because I believed it, yeah, after Lena’s smirk and his quiet stare. My hands shake, restless, shoving deeper into my hoodie, and my face burns, hot and mad, because he’s gone, maybe for real, and I’m stuck here, hollowed out, kicking dumb rocks like they’ll fix it.

A buzz hits my phone, sharp and quick, and my heart jumps, loud and fast, hoping it’s him. I yank it out, fingers clumsy, and it’s Sofia, Caleb’s sister, texting a blurry pic. My stomach flips, cold and wild, and my eyes squint, making it out—jocks caught Noah kissing me under the bleachers, his lips on mine, clear as day. My chest locks up, air gone, and my face burns hotter, red and sweaty, because it’s us, out there now, spreading fast, and my hands tremble, bad now, gripping the phone tight, scared and mad all at once.

I kick another rock, harder, and it skids loud across the street, because this changes everything, yeah, and my gut churns, hot and messy, thinking of Noah’s dad, strict and loud, finding out. My breath puffs, shaky and quick, and my legs move faster, sneakers pounding dirt, because I need to know, need him to say it’s not true, that he’s not done. My head buzzes, that kiss, the note, spinning wild, and my throat gets tight, dry and sore, because I’m hurt, deep down, and he’s leaving, maybe, breaking me worse.

Next morning, I’m at school, my chest still hollow, eyes stinging from no sleep. My teammate Mike jogs up, “Heard Noah’s gone, man—his dad yanked him to some fancy school across town, starts tomorrow.” My stomach drops, cold and fast, and my heart slams, loud and wild, because it’s real, he’s bailing, and my face burns, red and dumb, thinking the note was right, he’s done with me. My hands clench, sweaty and shaky, and my breath catches, stuck in my throat, because I’m mad, yeah, but scared, losing him for good, and my legs itch, needing to move, needing him here.

I ditch practice, my gut twisting, hot and wild, and I’m at his house before I think it through, banging his door loud, knuckles stinging. My heart thumps, fast and hard, and my face burns hotter, because I’m hurt, raw, and my voice cracks, “You’re running now?” He opens it, slow, eyes wide, packing a bag, and my chest flutters, steamy and tense, because he’s here, real, but leaving, and my hands shake, bad now, wanting to grab him, stop him. “My dad’s making me!” he says, voice loud, mad, and my stomach flips, warm and fast, because he’s fighting, maybe, but my head’s loud, note screaming, breaking me still.

“You’re done, like she said!” I yell, voice rough, stepping close, and my heart slams, loud and wild, because it’s out, hurting, and my face burns, red and sweaty, believing it, hating it. His hands brush mine, quick and hot, and my skin buzzes, steamy and alive, but I pull back, gut twisting, because it’s tense, yeah, and my chest aches, raw and tight, wanting him, doubting him. “I didn’t write it!” he shouts, voice cracking, mad, and my breath catches, stuck again, because he’s close, too close, and my hands tremble, restless, needing to believe, scared to fall.

We’re yelling now, loud and dumb, my sneakers scuffing his porch, and my gut flips, hot and wild, because his eyes are wet, hurt, and my chest locks up, air gone, feeling it, breaking more. “Then why you leaving?” I snap, voice rough, shoving him, and my heart skips, loud and fast, because I’m mad, scared, and my face burns hotter, red and wild, because he’s packing, yeah, and my throat’s tight, words stuck, thinking he’s gone, done with me. His hands grab my jacket, shaky and firm, and my stomach twists, steamy and fast, because it’s hot, real, and my breath puffs, loud in my ears, pulling me in, pushing me away.

“I don’t want to!” he yells, voice loud, raw, and my chest flutters, warm and tense, because he’s fighting, yeah, but my head’s buzzing, note in my pocket, tearing me up. My hands shake, bad now, brushing his again, quick and hot, and my skin buzzes, steamy and alive, because it’s us, here, now, and my gut twists, flirty and raw, wanting him, hating this. My face burns, my breath shaky, and my heart slams, loud and wild, because he’s close, real close, and my throat’s sore, dry and stuck, needing him to stay, scared he won’t.

I step back, slow and shaky, my sneakers dragging dirt, and my chest aches, hollow and fast, because I can’t, yeah, can’t hear it, believing he’s done, breaking me bad. “Good luck then,” I mutter, voice low, rough, turning fast, and my legs move, quick and dumb, pounding street, because my heart’s thumping, slow and hollow, and my hands shove into my hoodie, sweaty and trembling, because he’s leaving, and I’m lost, hurting deep. His voice calls, “Mateo!” loud and rough, fading behind, and my gut twists, hot and wild, because he’s there, yelling, but I’m gone, breaking us.

The street’s quiet, just my steps, loud and shaky, and my chest feels tight, my face hot, because he’s gone, yeah, tomorrow, and my throat’s sore, words stuck, wanting him back, scared it’s over. My breath puffs, quick and loud, and my hands clench, restless, because I could turn, yeah, but I don’t, too hurt, too mad, kicking rocks again, hard and dumb, because it’s love, yeah, and I’m losing it, breaking me bad.

Then it rustles, a soft crinkle, low and close, from my pocket. My head tilts, heart jumping fast, and my hand digs in, slow and shaky, pulling out the note again, crumpled and messy. My gut twists, warm and steamy, and my hands shake, bad now, holding it tight, because it’s dumb, yeah, but heavy, pulling me back to him. My breath catches, stuck in my throat, and my eyes squint, seeing it closer, the ink, the scrawl—different, not his, not Noah’s sloppy loops from his app notes. My chest flutters, hot and wild, and my legs freeze, sneakers stuck, because it’s Lena, maybe, her trick, and my heart slams, loud and fast, realizing he’s true, still mine.

My phone buzzes, soft and quick, making me jump, and my hands tremble, yanking it out fast. It’s him, Noah, one word: “Wait.” My breath shakes, steamy and alive, and my eyes flick up, street dark, his house back there, pulling tight. My gut twists, warm and wild, and my heart thumps, loud and fast, because it’s us, here, now, caught in the quiet. The note crinkles in my grip, soft and sharp, folding under my fingers, and my chest lifts, shaky and real, because he’s not done, yeah, and I’m running, waiting, with something sweet and steamy humming in the air.