Mystery Of Why The Universe We Created Explodes

Chapter 6

Martha's eyes welled up with tears as she enveloped me in a warm hug. I reciprocated, wrapping my arms tightly around her. The familiar scent of her perfume wafted up, a bittersweet reminder of our impending separation.

I inhaled deeply, committing the fragrance to memory, unsure when I'd experience it again. The uncertainty hung between us like a challenge, a reminder that our lives were taking different paths.

As we hugged, Martha's grip tightened, conveying a mix of sadness and longing. I responded instinctively, squeezing her closer. Our embrace became a silent language, conveying emotions words couldn't express.

Time seemed to slow, allowing us to savor this fleeting moment. The world outside receded, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a sea of uncertainty.

"Okay, that's enough. Let the kid go, Martha," Pablo's deep voice interrupted our emotional goodbye. His gruff tone made me chuckle, breaking the tension.

Martha released me, her eyes still shining with tears. She dabbed at her face with a tissue, composing herself.

"Visit us again, Kyle," she said, her voice soft. "And I hope you're with Andrew."

"Of course," I replied sincerely, determination burning within me. I vowed to make it happen.

I took a step back, smiling warmly at Martha. Her fragile smile mirrored mine.

As I turned to bid Pablo farewell, I realized he'd slipped away, leaving us to our emotional goodbye. I scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Pablo?" I asked Martha, feeling a pang of disappointment.

The garage door creaked open, its rusty hinges groaning in protest. The old pickup truck, with its faded paint and worn tires, emerged from the shadows. Pablo's cheerful face appeared in the driver's window, a wide smile spreading across his weathered skin.

"You think I'll let you ride that thing again for almost two hours, kid?" he shouted, his voice carrying over the engine's rumble. He gestured toward my bike, leaning against the fence, its chrome handlebars glinting in the sunlight.

I chuckled, feeling a surge of relief. Pablo's offer was a welcome reprieve from the long, tiring ride ahead.

As he pulled up beside me, the truck's engine sputtering, Pablo motioned for me to get in. "Get in, kid! I'll give you a ride."

I grinned, opening the creaky door and settling into the worn passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather and gasoline enveloped me, a comforting aroma.

"Thanks, Pablo," I said, buckling up.

Pablo winked, shifting into gear. "Anytime, kid. Now, let's get you home."

I faced Martha again, a bittersweet smile on my face. "Gotta go," I said, my voice tinged with reluctance.

Martha smiled back, her eyes still shining with unshed tears. She nodded, her silver hair bobbing gently.

"Take care," she said, her voice soft. "Here, take this with you."

She handed me a white Tupperware container, which I accepted hastily. I looked at her curiously, wondering what was inside.

"It's the remains of apple pie," she explained, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," I replied, genuinely grateful.

I turned to haul my bike and carefully placed it in the back of Pablo's pickup truck. Ensuring it was secure, I slid into the front passenger seat.

As I buckled up, Pablo started the engine. The truck's familiar rumble filled the air.

I glanced back at the house, where Martha stood waving goodbye. I waved back, feeling a pang of sadness.

Pablo's truck began to move, and Martha's figure grew smaller in the distance. I watched until she disappeared from view, the Tupperware container cradled in my lap.

The drive home with Pablo was a quiet, comfortable silence. Unlike Martha's warm chatter, Pablo's reserved nature filled the cab of the truck. Taylor Swift's melodies drifted from the stereo, a soothing soundtrack for our journey.

As we cruised down the winding roads, I hummed along to familiar tunes like "Love Story" and "Shake It Off". Pablo's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his expression relaxed.

The only sounds were Swift's vocals, the hum of the engine, and my occasional humming. The tranquil atmosphere enveloped us, a peaceful contrast to the emotional goodbyes earlier.

Pablo's silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was a welcome respite. I gazed out the window, watching the landscape unfold – rolling hills, verdant forests, and quaint roadside towns.

As Swift's "You Belong With Me" filled the truck, I caught Pablo's subtle nod to the beat. A small smile crept onto his face, and I smiled back, feeling a sense of camaraderie in our wordless journey home.

We rounded the familiar bend, and our house came into view, still three houses away. The blue-painted roof, weathered to a soft azure, stood out amidst the neighborhood's mix of earthy tones and vibrant hues.

As we drew closer, the details of our home became clearer – the neatly trimmed lawn, the porch with its worn wooden rocking chair, and the large oak tree shading the front yard.

Pablo expertly guided the pickup truck into our driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. He brought the vehicle to a gentle stop in front of our house, the engine sputtering into silence.

The sudden stillness was a welcome change, a sense of homecoming washing over me. I felt a surge of gratitude toward Pablo, who had accompanied me on this journey, providing comfort in his quiet way.

With the truck parked, Pablo turned to me, his eyes warm with a silent understanding. I smiled, knowing it was time to part ways, but appreciating the companionship we'd shared for the past hour.

"Till next time, kiddo," Pablo said, his voice warm and familiar, as the engine died.

I turned to him, smiling, and replied, "Bye, Pablo."

I leaned over and hugged him, feeling his sturdy arm encircle me in a gentle squeeze.

"Bye, kid," he replied, his voice low and soothing.

"Thanks, Pablo," I added, grateful for the ride and his companionship.

I opened the door and slid out, my feet touching the familiar gravel of our driveway. I retrieved my bike from the truck bed and began to push it toward the garage.

Before storing the bike, I turned back to Pablo, who was still in the driver's seat. I waved goodbye, and he returned the gesture with a warm smile.

As he backed out of the driveway, I tightened my grip on the bike's handlebars. Pablo's pickup truck disappeared from view as he turned the corner onto the street.

I watched the empty space for a moment, feeling a sense of appreciation for Pablo's kindness.

While I pushed my bike into the garage, I couldn't help but glance toward Drew's house, my heart skipping a beat. The gate was locked, and the garage stood empty, a stark contrast that they're not home yet.

Though I hadn't expected Drew to be home, a pang of disappointment settled in my chest. I felt a flutter of longing, wishing he'd be home.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed aside the sentiment. I focused on securing my bike in the garage, the familiar routine a comforting distraction.

As I leaned the bike against the wall and locked the chain, my gaze drifted back to Drew's house. The shutters were closed, and an air of stillness surrounded the property. I have no idea where they've been.

With my bike safely stored, I stepped back into the sunlight, feeling a sense of acceptance wash over me. I headed toward my front door, ready to settle back into my routine.

As I stepped into the house, an unsettling stillness enveloped me. The absence of voices, laughter, or even the TV's gentle hum created an eerie silence. It was as if the house itself was holding its breath.

I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that my father and brother were likely out. Their arguments, a constant presence in our home, were momentarily absent. No raised voices, no slamming doors, no tension.

For a fleeting moment, our house felt peaceful, a sanctuary from the chaos that often reigned. I savored the calm, letting it wash over me like a soothing balm.

The silence allowed me to hear the creaks and groans of the old house, the gentle tick of the clock, and the soft rustle of leaves outside. It was a rare, welcome respite.

I slipped off my shoes, feeling the cool floor beneath my feet. The quietude was a balm to my soul, a reminder that even in turbulent times, moments of serenity could be found.

I took a deep breath, letting the stillness seep into my being, and hastily retreated to my room, eager to shed the worn, sweat-drenched shirt clinging to my skin. The pungent aroma of my armpits, amplified by the day's exertions, had become unbearable.

I quickly locked the door behind me, seeking refuge in the solitude of my sanctuary. The familiar surroundings – posters on the walls, messy desk, and cozy bed – enveloped me in comfort.

I swiftly shed the gear and accessories, leaving them in a heap on the floor. My weary body craved relief, and the bathroom beckoned.

I headed straight for the bathroom, flipping on the shower faucet to let the warm water cascade down. As I waited for the temperature to adjust, I peeled off the offending shirt, revealing the sweat-stained undershirt beneath.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped under the showerhead, letting the soothing water wash away the grime and fatigue.

Under the warm shower, I let out a deep sigh. The water cascaded down, loosening the dirt and fatigue from my muscles. If not for my exhaustion, I'd have lingered forever, letting the soothing streams wash away the day's toll.

But my aching muscles protested, demanding rest. I settled for a rejuvenating half-hour, scrubbing away the grime and sweat. The soap's refreshing scent and the water's gentle touch revitalized my senses.

The stench of my armpits began to dissipate, replaced by the refreshing scent of soap and shampoo.

As I lathered up and rinsed off, the warmth seeped into my muscles, easing the tension. I felt rejuvenated, my senses revitalized.

Emerging from the bathroom, I felt my body surrendering to the day's weariness. Still dripping wet, I wrapped myself in a towel and made a beeline for my bed.

With a relieved groan, I face-planted onto the soft mattress, feeling the comfort envelop me. My eyelids grew heavy, and my breathing slowed.

As I sank into the pillow, exhaustion took hold, and I slipped into dreamland. The world outside receded, and my mind quieted, lulled by the warmth and security of my bed.

In this serene haven, I let go, allowing myself to recharge for another day. Sleep's soothing embrace wrapped around me, and I drifted off, lost in tranquil slumber.

I woke up to the loud banging of my door. Whoever did that is such an asshole. Still disoriented, as the loud banging on my door pierced the silence. My heart racing, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

The banging persisted, growing more insistent. I threw off the covers, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor.

I mumbled a weak protest, "Go away..." My voice barely rose above a whisper, stifled by my sleep-heavy throat. The banging persisted, an relentless drumbeat that refused to cease.

Annoyance coursed through my veins, propelling me out of bed. I stumbled toward the door, my movements slow and labored. My eyes half-open, I grasped the doorknob and yanked it open with a jerky motion.

Drew stood before me, his obnoxious smile plastered on his face like nothing was amiss. My heart skipped a beat. Five days of absence felt like an eternity.

My exhaustion forgotten, I felt a rush of emotions: relief, frustration, and longing. I wanted to simultaneously hug and punch him.

"Calm your t**s, sleepyhead," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's already late in the morning. Time to get your lazy ass up."

I glared, my eyes narrowing. How could he act so nonchalant? Did he not know how worried I'd been?

My gaze locked onto his, searching for answers. Where had he been? Why did he leave without a word?

Drew's smile faltered for a moment, and I glimpsed something more – a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of apology.

But it vanished, replaced by his signature smirk. "Miss me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I bit back my retort, unsure whether to yell or cry. Instead, I stepped aside, letting him in. Our reunion was complicated, but I couldn't deny the joy of having him back.

Though Drew's bright smile commanded attention, my gaze drifted to the dark circles under his eyes, a subtle hint of fatigue. I blinked, ensuring I wasn't seeing things. But the shadows remained, a stark contrast to his radiant grin.

Undeterred, Drew pushed past me, entering my room with his signature nonchalance. His familiarity was a comfort, yet I remained frozen, drinking in the details.

As he brushed by, the crisp scent of fresh mint wafted up, enveloping me in a sense of normalcy. His signature cologne, a reassuring presence.

I stood rooted, my eyes tracing his movements. Drew dropped onto my bed, making himself at home, his smile never wavering.

The disconnect between his carefree demeanor and the telltale signs of exhaustion piqued my concern. What had happened during his absence? Why the dark circles?

My mind whirled with questions, but my lips remained sealed. For now, I simply watched, absorbing the sight of him, solidifying his presence in my reality.

The silence between us grew, a palpable thing, as I struggled to reconcile the Drew I knew with the subtle changes I detected. His eyes, though sparkling, held a hint of vulnerability.

"Shower and get changed. We're going somewhere," Drew commanded, his tone firm but playful.

He grasped my arm, pulling me toward the bathroom. I stumbled, laughing, as he shoved me inside. But I quickly stepped out, curious about his intentions.

That's when I saw him – rummaging through my closet, scrutinizing my clothes, and selecting the perfect outfit. A familiar ritual, one that usually made me smile.

"Where are we going?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Drew didn't even glance my way, too engrossed in his task. "It's a surprise," he replied, his voice distracted.

I raised an eyebrow, confusion etched on my face. If it was a surprise, why hint at it now?

I walked toward him, picking up the clothes he'd tossed onto my bed. "Okay, enough," I said, halting his closet raid.

Drew finally looked up, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Just trust me, okay?" he said, his grin returning.

I sighed, relenting. His enthusiasm was infectious. I couldn't help but wonder what he had planned.

"Fine," I conceded, holding up the chosen outfit. "But you owe me an explanation later."

Drew's smile widened, and he nodded, satisfied. "Deal."

Our eyes met, and I seized the opportunity to gaze deeper. His eyes, usually bright and sparkling, appeared red-rimmed and puffy, hinting at a sleepless night or perhaps something more.

Drew's gaze faltered, and he swiftly pushed me into the bathroom. "Hurry up. We need to be early."

My curiosity piqued, I noticed the urgency in his tone. What was he hiding? Why the secrecy? I don't think I can think straight. Damn Drew with his surprise. He damn well knows I don't like surprises.

He once did this to me. That time when he treats me to a movie. Memories of that Avengers movie premiere came flooding back. I had been desperate to see it, but tickets sold out quickly. Devastated, I sulked for three days, unaware that Drew had secretly secured two tickets.

He watched me suffer, a sly grin hidden behind his concerned expression. The truth remained concealed until the day of the premiere.

"I'm not going anywhere today," I said, still sulking.

Drew's smile emerged, and he produced the tickets from his pocket. "Too late for that," he teased.

My shock turned to outrage. "You knew all along?!"

His smirk sealed his fate. I punched him playfully, releasing pent-up frustration.

I emerged from the shower, expectation etched on my face, but Drew was nowhere to be seen. My gaze swept the room, searching for a glimpse of him. Had I imagined his presence earlier?

My eyes landed on the bedside table, where a piece of paper caught my attention. A note, scribbled in Drew's familiar handwriting: "Waiting outside."

A furrowed brow formed as I pondered his words. Why wait outside when he could comfortably wait in my room? A nagging sense of unease settled in.

This wasn't the usual Drew, carefree and relaxed. Something was amiss.

I descended the stairs, dressed in the outfit Drew had chosen, and stepped out into the crisp morning air. The warm sunlight danced across the porch, where Drew sat, lost in thought.

His gaze was fixed intently on his shoes, his expression serious, as if weighed down by deep contemplation. But as I approached, he sensed my presence and lifted his head.

Our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, I glimpsed the somberness in his eyes. Then, like a mask slipping into place, his face transformed into a bright, cheerful smile.

Drew sprang up, brushing off the dust from his jeans. "Let's go?" he asked, his tone light and carefree.

I nodded, still sensing the undertone of seriousness beneath his jovial facade. Without a word, I fell into step beside him, curiosity propelling me forward.

As we walked, the silence between us grew, punctuated only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet. I couldn't shake the feeling that Drew was hiding something, but his smile kept me at bay, fueling my anticipation for our mysterious destination.

We strolled into Charlie's since we haven't had our breakfast yet. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon enveloping us. Our stomachs growled in unison, eager for breakfast.

At the counter, Drew and I ordered our usual: fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, and scrambled eggs. The waitress, recognizing us, smiled and nodded, taking our order with ease.

As we waited for our food, the silence between us was comfortable, a testament to our familiarity.

Our meals arrived, and we dug in, savoring the flavors. The clinking of utensils and gentle hum of conversation from other patrons filled the air.

We ate silently, lost in our own thoughts. Drew's earlier seriousness lingered, but I didn't press, respecting his unspoken boundaries.

The warmth of the diner, the comfort of our routine, and the taste of our favorite breakfast dishes provided a sense of normalcy, a brief respite from the mystery surrounding our day's plans.

As I chewed my pancakes, memories of Drew's recent absence flooded my mind. I glanced at him, but he was engrossed in his meal, oblivious to my gaze.

His focus on his food was almost comical, but my thoughts were far from amused. Questions swirled: Where had he been? Why the secrecy?

I yearned to ask, but trepidation held me back. Fear of his response, or lack thereof, kept me silent.

Maybe he didn't want to share, didn't want to revisit whatever had taken him away. The uncertainty gnawed at me.

"What are you looking at?" Drew asked, his voice low and even, without lifting his gaze from his plate.

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, caught off guard. I had underestimated his awareness.

Hurriedly, I diverted my gaze to my plate, focusing on the remnants of my meal. "Nothing," I replied, attempting nonchalance.

Drew's eyes remained fixed on his food, his expression unreadable. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

The silence that followed was palpable, heavy with the weight of my unasked questions. I poked at my food, no longer hungry.

Drew's subtle smile, still fixed on his plate, hinted he knew I'd been staring. His casual tone belied the undertone of curiosity.

The moment hung, a delicate balance of unspoken thoughts and evaded eye contact.

I sensed Drew's gaze, and my peripheral vision caught his subtle movement. He lifted his head, our eyes locking in a profound connection.

The intensity of his stare was unnerving, yet captivating. His irises seemed to bore into mine, searching for answers.

"Tell me. What is it?" he pressed, his voice low and urgent.

His eyes, usually bright and carefree, now swirled with an unidentifiable emotion – a mix of concern, curiosity, and something deeper.

I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could see beyond my facade. My heart skipped a beat.

Drew's focus didn't waver; his gaze held mine, demanding honesty. The air thickened, heavy with anticipation.

In this suspended moment, time stood still. The diner's bustle faded into the background.

My gaze was transfixed on Drew's chiseled features, drinking in every detail. His serious expression only added to his allure, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes.

The small mole near his left brow, a tiny imperfection, became a captivating focal point. My heart skipped a beat as I traced the contours of his face, mesmerized.

Every aspect of him drew me in – the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the sparkle in his eyes. My love for him was all-consuming, growing exponentially with each passing day.

Time stood still as I drowned in the depths of his gaze. The diner's ambiance faded into the background, leaving only the two of us, suspended in this moment.

My thoughts whispered secrets: I'm irreversibly drawn to you, Drew. Every quirk, every smile, every glance – I'm forever lost in your charm.

The vulnerability in his eyes beckoned me closer, inviting me to unravel the mysteries hidden beneath his serious demeanor. My soul yearned to connect with his, to understand the complexities of his heart.

"Hey, Kyle."

Drew's sudden flick on my forehead shattered my trance, leaving me startled. "Ouch!" I yelped, instinctively rubbing the spot.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, embarrassment creeping in.

Drew's chuckle accompanied his teasing tone, "I asked you a question, and all you did was stare at me. What's wrong with you?"

My cheeks ignited, fiery red. Mortified, I cupped my face, attempting to conceal the blush.

Ducking my head, I reached for my spoon and continued eating, avoiding eye contact. The roasted potato on my plate became the most fascinating sight, worthy of intense scrutiny.

My focus on the potato was a desperate attempt to divert attention from my flushed face. Drew's knowing gaze, however, told me he wasn't buying it.

The silence between us was filled with his suppressed amusement and my simmering embarrassment. I dared not meet his eyes, fearing the teasing that would surely follow.

The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, like a palpable fog. I focused on chewing, desperate to ignore the discomfort.

Why had I zoned out like that? My mind raced with mortification. What must Drew think?

I shut my eyes, attempting to tune out the diner's ambient noise and Drew's presence. The clinking of utensils, the murmur of conversations, and the soft sizzle of food on the grill all blended into a distant hum.

My senses narrowed to the taste and texture of my food. I savored each bite, prolonging the distraction.

Drew's gaze, however, remained palpable, a weight I couldn't shake. I sensed his eyes on me, probably filled with amusement or concern.

My resolve was to maintain this facade, to pretend the awkward moment never happened. But the tension lingered, a constant reminder of my unexplained behavior.

Drew's sudden apology broke the silence, and I lifted my head, intrigued.

"Sorry about my M.I.A.," he said, chuckling bashfully, downplaying the concern he'd caused.

But his nonchalance didn't ease my worry. I clenched my teeth, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

He continued, "And also about the way I acted towards your new friend."

The way he emphasized "new friend" carried a hint of acridity, a subtle tang of jealousy.

"Rhys," I clarified, studying Drew's reaction.

His expression turned quizzical. "What?"

I repeated, "His name is Rhys."

Drew's tone shifted, a hint of possessiveness creeping in. "Sure. Rhys, is it."

The undertone was unmistakable – a mix of curiosity and territoriality. I sensed a spark of unease, a feeling that our friendly dynamics might be shifting.

I pushed aside my curiosity about Drew's recent absence, my mood soured by his evasive apology. The questions still lingered, but I let them simmer, unresolved.

My thoughts shifted to Rhys, and Drew's peculiar behavior towards him. Why the animosity?

Rhys was kind, genuine, and warm – the antithesis of someone who'd warrant Drew's disdain. I couldn't reconcile the two.

What's wrong with Rhys? I wondered, frustration creeping in.

Drew's expression, earlier laced with subtle hostility, now seemed impassive. Yet, the seed of doubt was planted.

Was there something I missed? Some hidden dynamic between them?

My mind whirled with possibilities, but the answers remained elusive, shrouded by Drew's enigmatic demeanor.

The silence between us grew, heavy with unspoken concerns and unresolved tensions.

My cheeks flared crimson as memories of the woods, and Rhys, flooded my mind. The warmth spread, a betraying blush, as I struggled to maintain composure.

Drew's gaze locked onto mine, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

I swiftly looked away, feigning interest in my plate. The diner's clatter and chatter receded into the background.

Drew's gaze lingered, sensing something amiss. "Kyle?" he probed, his voice softer.

My silence only deepened his curiosity. I could feel his eyes on me, searching for answers.

The secrets I kept – the moments with Rhys in the woods – threatened to surface. My face burned brighter, a beacon of guilt.

How could I explain? How could I hide the truth?

The air thickened, heavy with unspoken words and concealed emotions. Drew's watchful gaze waited, patient and inquiring.

Drew's concerned expression deepened as he reached out, his palm brushing against my forehead. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

I swatted his hand away, forcing an awkward smile. "I'm fine," I assured, trying to sound convincing.

Well, not totally fine since my d**k wants to turn a rod pole cause it started to swell. My body betrayed me. A stirring in my groin, an unwelcome arousal, threatened to surface. I felt my face flush anew.

Not now, please. Not here. I don't want to have a boner while walking to where the hell our destination is later.

I discreetly adjusted myself, hoping to alleviate the discomfort. The table's edge, thankfully, concealed my movements.

Drew, still chewing, remained focused on me. His gaze didn't waver, but I breathed a silent sigh of relief – he hadn't noticed.

This day just got more complicated.

I shifted in my seat, attempting to compose myself. The diner's noise and bustle seemed to amplify, a stark contrast to my internal turmoil.

How would I navigate this unpredictable day, with Drew's scrutiny and my own unruly desires? This is gonna be a long day, I’m sure.