Frequencies of Us Chapter 71: Trails and a Tear

Mateo POV

Walking through the woods, sneakers crunching twigs, breath puffing fast. The trees close in, dark and thick, and my chest thumps, heavy, missing Noah bad. I broke us, yelled I can’t trust him, and now I’m empty, gut aching without him. My legs push harder, burning up, but he’s stuck in my head, lips and all. I slow down, panting loud, and duck off the path, needing to feel him somehow.

I lean on a tree, rough bark biting my back, and my shorts tighten, stiffening quick. I can’t stop it—want him too fierce. I yank the zipper down, fast, shoving my shorts low, and my dick stands out, full and ready. I grab it, tight, and rub slow, picturing Noah’s lips on mine, soft, then hard. “Fuck you,” I growl, low, fist picking up speed, heat flaring sharp.

I stroke faster, imagining his mouth sliding down, kissing me deep, his tongue hot and wet. My breath snags, rough, and I see him grinning, teasing me, driving me wild. “Noah,” I grunt, loud, fist pumping quick, fire spiking in my gut. My fingers smear the tip, slick and wet, and my knees wobble, craving him raw. I picture him shoving me here, slamming into me, fierce and fast. My hips buck, thrusting up, and I growl again, “Fuck you,” voice snapping, mad, needy.

Bark scratches my skin, rough, and I jack off harder, hearing his laughs, feeling his lips bite me. My dick swells, throbbing wild, and I see him spilling inside me, pushing me over. My fist squeezes, fast, tight, and I burst, wet and fast, hitting the bark, dripping down wood. My legs give, weak, and I slump, gasping loud, trembling against the tree. Tears fall, quick, hot, and my chest caves, crushed, mad at him, needing him back.

I tug my shorts up, slow, sticky mess on my hand, and my ribs ache, hollow without him. My eyes blur, wet, and I swipe them fast, pissed at myself, pissed at him for Jamie. I broke it, but I want it, and my skin buzzes, still starving for him. I kick the dirt, soft, tears drying, and head out, mind spinning, scared I’ve lost him for good.

I’m at school next day, slow, dragging through the gym. Coach calls me over, whistle loud, and my gut sinks, chill creeping in. “Mateo, you’re off the team,” he says, voice flat, hard, and my blood boils, quick, furious. “What?” I snap, stepping close, and he folds his arms, saying, “Your attitude sucks.” My chest squeezes, tight, and I yell, “That’s bullshit!” He turns away, done, and my foot slams a bench, hard, wood cracking loud.

I storm off, fists clenched, blaming Noah, mad he’s in my head, messing me up. My pulse races, wild, and I mutter, “This is you,” chest burning, picturing him laughing, ruining me. Kids stare, whispering, and my throat closes, trapped, scared I’m nothing without track, without him. I punch a locker, soft, knuckles stinging, and feel lost, rage swallowing me whole.

I slump in the hall, panting, when Caleb sneaks up, fast, holding a note. My stomach twists, seeing him, and he shoves it at me, eyes darting. “Read it,” he says, voice low, and I snatch it, unfolding quick. “Lena’s got Ortiz’s mic,” it says, and my blood flares, hot, mad as hell. “Fuck this,” I growl, loud, ripping it up, bits falling to the floor. He steps back, saying, “She’s got more,” but I shove past, chest heaving, done with his games, done with her.

I sit in class, palms damp, mind racing with Coach’s cut, Lena’s mic. My ribs hurt, Noah’s ghost haunting me, and I feel him slipping, gone from me. Kids mutter, glancing over, and my gut clenches, tight, scared of what she’s got, scared of falling more. I grip my desk, nails biting, and want to run, find him, fix us. The bell rings, loud, and I grab my bag, quick, needing air, needing him, but I’m stuck, alone, dread swelling.

I’m outside later, slow, kicking gravel, head a mess. Ryan struts up, fast, grinning wide, and my gut drops, chill rushing in. “Hey, loser,” he says, voice sharp, mean, and my fists knot, ready. He tosses a USB at me, hard, and it hits my chest, falling to the ground. “Play it,” he says, laughing low, and my pulse quits, terror flooding quick. I stare at it, small, black, and my throat burns, stuck, scared it’s us, scared it’s over.

I bend, slow, picking it up, fingers shaky, and he walks off, still laughing, loud in my ears. My chest caves, crushed, and I clutch it, mad, terrified, needing to know, needing to hide. My legs lock, frozen, and I hear his laugh fade, leaving me alone, waiting for the blow, ready to break.