The silence in my room isn't empty.
It hums.
It stretches.
It clings to the air like the thick heat before a storm, the kind that smells like asphalt and bad memories. The kind that doesn't leave until something breaks.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster like they're going to rearrange into answers. Like they'll tell me who left that note the other day. Why Brayan's name still haunts the walls of this house like a ghost nobody wants to admit is real.
Brayan.
Tyler's half-brother.
My childhood safety net.
The first boy who ever made me feel like I wasn't broken.
Dead.
Gone.
Suicide.
The word still tastes wrong when I let it roll around in my head. Bitter. Like burnt sugar and ash. I never knew. I didn't even get to say goodbye. He just vanished. And now I know why.
Except I don't.
Because someone left a note.
Because someone wants me to ask questions.
And maybe I'm not ready for the answers.
A knock breaks the stillness. Soft. Hesitant.
My door creaks open before I say anything.
Tyler steps in, wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie I've never seen before Brayan's hoodie. The faded maroon one from the picture on my dresser. It hits me like a gut punch.
"Is it okay if I…?" he asks, motioning to the desk chair.
I nod.
He sits.
I sit up.
Neither of us speaks for a long, suffocating minute.
"I can take it off," he says, tugging at the hoodie like it's suddenly radioactive. "If it's too much."
I shake my head. "No. It's okay. Just… unexpected."
Tyler sighs. "I found it in the attic last year. I didn't even know it was still up there."
We sit in silence again.
I hate silence. It's never quiet, not really. It just makes the loud things in your head sound louder.
"I've been thinking," he says finally. "About the note. About Brayan."
I brace myself.
"I think whoever left it knows both of us. Or knew him. Someone who knew what he meant to you. And to me."
I tilt my head. "Any suspects?"
He hesitates. "There's someone I haven't told you about."
Of course there is.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Brayan had a friend. A guy he used to hang out with all the time when I was younger. Name was Elijah. Kind of… intense. Like, protective to the point of obsessive."
I frown. "Why didn't you mention him before?"
Tyler rubs his jaw. "Because the last time I saw Elijah, he told me I didn't deserve to talk about Brayan. Said I was part of the reason he…" He trails off.
My throat tightens.
"What happened between them?"
"I don't know everything," Tyler admits. "But after Brayan died, Elijah disappeared. Until now, I thought he left town."
A name. Finally. A thread to tug on.
"You think Elijah left the note?"
"I think he wants something. Closure. Revenge. I don't know."
I don't know either. But the unease in my chest has a name now, and that makes it worse somehow. Like we opened a door we weren't supposed to find.
"What was Brayan like with him?" I ask.
Tyler looks away. "Different. Like he was constantly walking a tightrope. He smiled less. Was always checking over his shoulder. I didn't get it then. I thought maybe it was just a rough friendship, but now…"
"Now?"
"I think Elijah was in love with him. And I think Brayan didn't feel the same."
The room feels colder.
"So what, you think this guy is stalking us?"
Tyler doesn't answer.
That's enough of an answer.
I get up and cross to the window. The streetlight outside flickers. It always does. But now it feels like a warning.
"Why is this happening now?" I whisper. "Why not years ago?"
"Maybe because I finally told you. Maybe because we're getting close. Maybe because someone doesn't want us to."
That last one stings.
A beat of silence.
"You think we're getting close?" I ask, my voice quieter than I want it to be.
Tyler stands. Walks up behind me. Close but not touching. "I think we're already there."
I want to believe him. But something inside me is unraveling too fast to catch.
I turn around. "You kept Brayan from me for weeks."
"I was scared."
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
"Then maybe you should stop doing things that make you scared to tell me."
He flinches. "Ben..."
"No. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of figuring out how much to trust you every single day. One minute, you're looking at me like I'm the only person who makes sense. The next, you shut down like I'm the one who hurt you."
His hands curl into fists at his sides. "You think this is easy for me?"
"I don't know what to think anymore!"
We're not yelling, not really. But it feels like we are. It feels like we're throwing invisible punches and dodging each other's truths.
"You're not the only one grieving him," Tyler says, voice low. "I lost him too."
"Yeah, but you knew why. You knew what happened. I didn't even get a funeral. I didn't get closure. I got silence."
Tyler swallows. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want your apology," I snap. "I want answers."
And then the worst part happens.
I cry.
Not the pretty, single tear down the cheek kind. The full body kind. The breathless, shaking, ugly kind that makes your ribs hurt. I drop onto the floor because my legs stop working and I can't hold it in anymore.
I sob for Brayan.
I sob for the version of myself I was when I met him.
I sob because someone out there wants me to hurt.
And it's working.
Tyler kneels in front of me.
He doesn't say anything.
He just pulls me in.
I resist for half a second before I collapse against him.
We stay like that for what feels like forever.
Eventually, I pull back, wiping at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie.
"I hate this," I mutter.
"I know."
"I feel broken."
"You're not."
We sit on the floor. Our backs against the bed.
"I think he loved you," Tyler says suddenly.
I blink. "Brayan?"
Tyler nods. "Not in a romantic way. I mean, maybe. But… he always talked about this kid. This kid with messy hair and too many questions and a way of smiling that made people feel less alone."
I stare at the floor.
"Guess that was me," I whisper.
"Guess so."
Silence again.
But this time, it's softer.
"What now?" I ask.
"We find Elijah."
I raise an eyebrow. "And do what, exactly? Confront him? Ask why he's leaving cryptic notes like we're in a bad teen drama?"
Tyler gives a sad smile. "Something like that."
"You really think he's the key?"
"I think Brayan wouldn't want us to keep living in the shadows of things we don't understand."
I nod slowly.
Okay.
Okay.
The next day is a blur.
School is background noise. Dan notices something's off but doesn't push, which I appreciate. I don't have the energy to lie or explain. I just float through the day like a ghost in my own body.
At lunch, Tyler texts me a photo.
A picture of a flyer.
Missing: Elijah Cross. Last seen 2020. Age 19.
I stare at it for a long time.
My fingers go cold.
He's missing?
Or maybe just disappeared on purpose.
Either way, the mystery deepens.
And somewhere in that fog of confusion, one thing becomes very clear:
Brayan's story isn't over.
And neither is ours.
The flyer burns itself into my brain.
Missing since 2020.
Nineteen years old.
Last seen near Willow Creek Road.
I google it.
It's ten minutes from here. Fifteen if you're walking slow.
A place Brayan and I once went during a summer storm, running through the trees like stupid kids who believed lightning couldn't touch them. We got soaked and he kissed my forehead like he knew he wouldn't always be around. I thought it was nothing at the time.
But everything meant something, didn't it?
Tyler and I meet after school. Neither of us says much. He just hands me the flyer in person now, the creases deeper than they were in the photo. Like he's been folding and unfolding it all day, trying to will it into revealing more.
"Where did you find it?" I ask.
"Online. Some old Facebook post from a missing persons group. His parents filed a report, but there wasn't much follow-up. Said he vanished without a trace."
"How does someone vanish without a trace?"
He shrugs. "Maybe the same way Brayan did."
I glance up. "You mean emotionally?"
He hesitates. "Or physically."
The implication slices through the air like a knife.
"You think they were connected?"
"I think something happened that no one wanted to talk about."
I hate how vague this all feels. Like we're grasping at smoke, hoping it'll turn solid if we hold on long enough.
"Do you know if Brayan ever mentioned Willow Creek to your dad?" I ask.
Tyler gives me a weird look. "Why would he?"
"I just…" I exhale. "It's where Elijah was last seen. It's where Brayan and I used to go."
Tyler stiffens.
He knows something. I see it in the tightness around his mouth.
"What?" I ask.
His jaw tenses. "There's something I never told you. About Willow Creek."
Of course there is.
He closes his eyes, leans against the wall like the words are physically hard to say.
"There was a fight," he murmurs. "Between Brayan and Elijah. It happened there. I overheard it."
My heart speeds up. "What kind of fight?"
"Like… loud. Scary. Brayan told Elijah to stop following him. To stop calling his phone, showing up unannounced. Said he didn't owe him anything."
"And Elijah?"
"He told Brayan he'd make sure everyone knew what kind of person he really was."
A chill creeps down my back. "Did you ever hear from him after that?"
"No. That was the last time either of us saw him."
I sit down heavily. "So maybe Elijah didn't vanish. Maybe Brayan did something."
Tyler flinches. "Don't."
"We have to consider it."
"He wouldn't have..."
"You don't know what people are capable of when they're scared."
Tyler looks away, pain flashing in his eyes. "You're right. I don't."
We fall into silence again.
It's getting too familiar.
Later that night, I dream of Willow Creek.
The trees are taller than I remember. The sky is gray. A storm brews above, lightning flashing behind the branches.
I see Brayan standing at the edge of the water, his maroon hoodie soaked, clinging to his body. His face is pale. Hollow.
He turns toward me.
But it isn't him.
It's Elijah.
And he's crying.
Behind him, something rises from the lake.
A hand. A shadow. A secret.
I wake up gasping.
The sheets are twisted around me like restraints. My heart is pounding against my ribs. I feel like I've seen something I wasn't supposed to. Like my subconscious is trying to scream at me.
I check my phone. No new messages.
Except one.
Unknown Number:
Still looking in the wrong places.
Still don't know what you lost.
Still pretending you're not part of it.
I drop the phone.
My chest tightens.
I screenshot the message and send it to Tyler.
He calls immediately.
"You okay?" he asks without greeting.
"No."
His breathing is ragged too. "Same number?"
"Yeah."
He mutters a curse.
"We need to go to Willow Creek," I say. "Now."
There's a pause. "It's midnight."
"I don't care."
"I'll be there in ten."
The air at Willow Creek is colder than it should be for late summer.
The water is still. The trees loom like witnesses.
Tyler shines a flashlight ahead as we crunch through the undergrowth, our shoes damp from the grass.
It's not the first time I've been here, but it's the first time it feels… off. Like the woods are holding their breath.
We reach the clearing by the water.
Nothing.
Just silence and reflection.
Then I see it.
A red ribbon.
Tied to the branch of a tree.
Tyler steps closer and unties it carefully. It's frayed, faded from the weather.
There's something attached to the end.
A note.
Folded tight, smudged from moisture.
He opens it under the flashlight's beam.
"You only looked at what he showed you.
But I saw what he was hiding.
If you want the truth, dig deeper."
I swallow hard. "What the hell does that mean?"
Tyler doesn't answer.
Because maybe we both already know.
Back home, I can't sleep.
I stare at my wall, where Brayan's photo used to hang before I tucked it away.
What was he hiding?
Why did Elijah want to expose him?
And why now?
I scroll through old texts, memories, photos,anything that might give me a clue.
I stop on a picture.
Me, Brayan, and someone else.
Someone cropped out.
My hands shake.
I go to my closet, pull out the shoebox of keepsakes I haven't opened in years.
There it is.
The original photo.
Brayan in the middle. Me on the left.
And Elijah on the right.
Smiling.
Hand on Brayan's shoulder.
But Brayan's smile looks forced.
Eyes tight.
Like he's afraid.
Like he knew something was coming.
I text the picture to Tyler.
He replies almost instantly:
Tyler: We need to find out who took that photo.
I stare at the screen.
And I realize…
It wasn't just Brayan who vanished.
It was everything I thought I knew about him.
The next morning, I skip breakfast and ignore the way Mom keeps glancing between me and the clock. Something's been off with her lately, like she's on the edge of saying something but keeps swallowing it back down.
Tyler and I meet again after school, this time in the garage. It's the only place no one checks because no one in this house uses it, it's too full of boxes and rusted tools.
"I sent the photo to Brayan's old friend, Mina," I say, holding out my phone. "She was the only one who stayed in touch after… everything. She says she remembers that day."
Tyler raises an eyebrow. "She's still talking to you?"
I nod. "Barely."
"She used to hate me."
"She still does."
He huffs out a laugh, but the humor doesn't stick.
"She said the photo was taken at a party," I continue. "Right before Brayan started pulling away from everyone. Apparently, something happened that night some kind of blow up between him and Elijah. She doesn't know the details, just that Brayan left and didn't speak to anyone for days after."
"Did she mention who else was there?"
"Some names, yeah." I pause. "One of them stood out."
He leans in. "Who?"
"Mr. Morgan."
The name hangs between us like a heavy, choking fog.
Tyler steps back. "My dad?"
I nod, slowly. "She said he was there. She remembers because he picked Brayan up."
"He never told me he was at that party."
"You think he's hiding something?"
"I think everyone is," Tyler mutters. "My dad… he's always been the type to pretend nothing's wrong until the house is on fire. He says he loved Brayan, but he barely mentions him now. Like he's afraid to."
"Maybe he is."
The garage feels too tight suddenly. Like the walls are shrinking.
Tyler paces. "He used to fight with Brayan a lot. I thought it was normal teenage stuff. Rules. Grades. Friends. But now I think… maybe it was about something else."
"What kind of something?"
"I don't know," he whispers. "I don't know."
There's a raw panic in his voice that I've never heard before. Like the part of him that pretends to be invincible is finally cracking.
I reach for his hand without thinking.
He doesn't pull away.
That night, at dinner, Mom and Mr. Morgan actually show up. It's like the planets aligned just to remind us we're technically still a family.
The table is quiet except for the sound of cutlery on ceramic. Mom is smiling too tightly. Mr. Morgan looks like he's somewhere else entirely.
Tyler and I exchange a look.
"So," Mom says, breaking the silence. "School's going well?"
I nod. "Yeah. It's… fine."
She turns to Tyler. "And you?"
He shrugs. "Same."
More silence.
I decide to push.
"Did you ever know someone named Elijah?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.
Mr. Morgan freezes, fork halfway to his mouth.
"I..what?"
"Elijah. Brayan's friend."
He lowers his fork slowly. "Why are you asking?"
Tyler sits up straighter. "He was at the same party you were. Years ago. The one where you picked Brayan up."
Mr. Morgan's eyes dart between us, then back to his plate. "That was a long time ago."
"But you remember," I press.
"I remember there was drinking. Too much of it. Brayan wasn't supposed to be there."
"Did something happen between him and Elijah?" Tyler asks, voice low.
Mr. Morgan sighs, rubs his temple. "Look, I don't know what you two are digging into, but it's not healthy."
"That's not an answer," Tyler snaps.
"I'm not sure I have one."
"Try," I say, sharper than I intend.
He stares at the table for a long moment. Then:
"Elijah accused Brayan of something. I don't know what. They were shouting. I walked in at the tail end. Elijah had his phone out like he was recording something. Brayan knocked it out of his hand. That's all I saw. I told them to cut it out and took Brayan home."
"What happened after that?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Brayan stopped talking. For days. I thought he was just embarrassed."
"Do you know what Elijah accused him of?" Tyler says.
"No." He glances up. "And maybe that's for the best."
"No," I say, voice steady. "It's not."
Mr. Morgan looks at me, and for the first time since I've known him, he actually looks sorry.
"Maybe I should've asked more questions," he admits quietly. "Maybe I didn't want to know."
Back upstairs, Tyler throws himself onto my bed.
I sit at the edge of it.
"Do you think Elijah was blackmailing Brayan?" I ask.
"Maybe. Or maybe he found out something Brayan didn't want out there."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. But whatever it was, it scared him."
I look down at my hands. "You said you didn't know what people are capable of when they're scared."
"Yeah."
I glance up. "Did you mean Brayan? Or yourself?"
He doesn't answer right away.
Then he whispers, "Both."
A few hours later, I go back to the flyer. The face staring back feels less like a stranger now. The name Elijah was just a blip before. Now he's a knot in my chest.
I flip the paper over.
There's handwriting on the back I hadn't noticed before.
"He knew. He saw.
And now he's gone."
I show Tyler.
His face pales.
"That wasn't on the original," he says. "I swear it wasn't."
"Then someone wanted us to see it now."
The phone buzzes again.
Unknown Number:
You're asking the wrong people.
You should be asking yoursel.
What did you ignore?
My stomach twists.
"What did I ignore?" I whisper.
Tyler leans over. "What's it saying?"
I read it aloud.
He looks shaken.
"What did you ignore?"
I think back.
The texts I stopped replying to.
The last voicemail from Brayan I never listened to.
The way he looked at me the night he left.
Like he wanted me to ask.
Like he needed me to see.
I grab my phone and search for it. The voicemail. The one I always swiped away because it felt too final.
I play it.
"Ben… I know I screwed up. But there's stuff you don't know. Stuff I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd hate me. Or worse,pity me. Elijah… he tried to help. He really did. I just I just couldn't let it come out. I couldn't..."
The message cuts off.
The recording stops.
And I sit there, cold all over.
Tyler moves beside me, eyes wide. "He was trying to confess something."
"Or explain."
"And Elijah knew."
I nod. "And now they're both gone."
We sit in silence.
Not the awkward kind we used to have. Not the angry kind either.
It's the silence you sit in when the ground shifts under you. When you realize the people you thought you knew were carrying more than they could handle. When you're scared you're about to do the same
I look at Tyler.
He looks back at me.
For once, there's no teasing.
Just a quiet, mutual understanding that this story is bigger than us and we're already neck-deep in it.