Tom's POV
No warning. No goodbye. No explanation. One day she was there, promising we'd conquer high school together, swearing she'd get contacts and become popular and drag me along with her. And the next? Nothing. No calls. No texts. No letters. No social media stalking, no "I'm okay," no "I miss you," no fucking thing.
She disappeared like I'd never mattered.
I stood there behind my door, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, memories crashing into me one after another like they were pissed I'd tried to forget them. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
And now she was back.
Standing on the other side of my bedroom door like no time had passed. Like she hadn't shattered something in me and left me to pick up the pieces alone. Like she could just knock and say my name and I'd open up and let her back in.
No fucking way.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I just leaned my forehead against the door, breathing slow, steady, forcing myself not to crack.
Because if I opened that door—I wasn't sure whether I'd yell at her…or let her break me all over again.
"Tommy, please… can I come in?" she asked again, her voice barely holding together.
I stayed frozen, staring at the stupid fucking door like it was my enemy. My hand twitched once, but I didn't move. I refused to open it.
"Tommy," she pleaded, softer this time. Closer. Like she was right against the door, like she could somehow feel how wrecked I was through the wood.
Then footsteps approached, slow and familiar, and I heard my mom's voice cut through the tension.
"Tom," she said gently, "may I come in instead?"
I hesitated. My jaw clenched. My chest felt tight as hell. After a long second, I finally yanking the door open.
My mom stood there, calm but sharp-eyed, already knowing shit was wrong. Cassandra stood behind her, hands clasped together, eyes hopeful and scared.
"Wait for me in the living room, dear," my mom said to her softly.
Cassandra nodded, shooting me one last look before turning and walking away. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
Mom stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a quiet click that sounded way louder than it should've.
"Okay," she said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "Talk to me."
I dropped down onto the floor beside the bed, my back against it, knees pulled up. I stared at my hands like they had the answers.
"There's nothing to talk about, Mom," I said flatly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then why are you treating your best friend like that?"
That hit a nerve. Hard.
"She's not my best friend, Mom, not anymore." I snapped.
Her gaze didn't shake. "Really," she said calmly. "Since when?"
"Since she left," I said immediately, my voice tight, rough around the edges.
She sighed, long and tired, like she'd been holding that breath in for years. "Do you really think that's fair to her? She didn't leave on her own accord. You do know that, right? Her father got a job in another state."
"I know that," I shot back, my head lifting now, anger flaring hot in my chest. "And I don't blame her dad for getting a new job. I don't blame her mom for packing their shit and moving. I'm not mad about that."
I swallowed, my jaw tightening.
"I'm mad at her," I said flatly, the words heavy and sharp.
"What are you angry about?" she asked softly, like she already knew the answer but needed me to finally fucking say it.
I let out a bitter laugh, sharp and humorless, my hands clenching into fists in my lap.
"That she left," I said, my voice flat at first, but it cracked the longer I spoke. "She just took off and fucking left. No warning. No heads-up. She didn't tell me she was leaving, Mom. She never said goodbye." I shook my head, staring at the wall.
"It felt like she couldn't wait to get the hell out of here." My chest tightened, that familiar burn creeping up my throat.
"And nothing," I continued, my voice rising despite myself. "She never tried to keep in touch. Not once. No texts. No calls. Not even a shitty email. Just… fucking silence."
I swallowed hard, blinking fast, pissed at myself for feeling this much after all this time.
"She just left," I repeated, quieter now. "She left me. She left us. Our friendship. Like it didn't mean a goddamn thing."
I dragged a hand down my face, my voice thick with emotion I hated showing.
"She never tried, Mom. Not once. She never fucking tried."