The evening air around Silverbrook was still, the river flowing silently as the day's light faded into dusk. The quiet was only broken by the gentle hum of Grant Holloway's car engine as it navigated the winding roads home. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mind clouded by the alcohol he'd consumed earlier. He wasn't reckless—not tonight—but his thoughts were heavy, pulling him under like the current of the river beside him.
He exhaled slowly, focusing on the road, but there was a dull ache behind his eyes. The familiar curves of the riverbank came into view, and for a brief moment, his mind wandered—back to earlier in the evening, to a life that felt increasingly out of reach. He felt tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix.
Then, without warning, the roar of a black Mustang pierced the quiet night, its headlights blinding as it sped toward him, too fast. Grant's heart lurched in his chest, his body stiffening as he barely had time to react. The Mustang slammed into his car with a deafening crash, metal crumpling as glass shattered and sprayed into the air.
Grant's car spun out of control, the screech of the tires mingling with the sickening crunch of steel on steel. For a second, the world tilted, and the car teetered on the edge of the riverbank, hanging in the balance.
Then, it tipped.
The car flipped violently, crashing down the embankment before plunging into the freezing water below. The river swallowed the vehicle whole, the cold rushing in like a tidal wave, filling the cabin. Inside, Grant fought to breathe, his chest burning as the weight of the water crushed him from all sides. But there was no air—only the dark, icy grip of the river pulling him under.
---
The cemetery was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves in the cold breeze. Zane Holloway stood motionless by the gravesite, his black suit stiff against his skin, the collar too tight around his neck. The gray sky above him felt suffocating, heavy with the threat of rain, but it never came. Nothing came. Just an endless, aching stillness.
Zane stared at the coffin being lowered into the ground, the hollow sound of the dirt hitting the wood echoing in his ears. His face was pale, drained of color and expression, as if all the life had been sucked out of him with his father's death. His hands hung limply at his sides, clenched into fists, but even that didn't anchor him to the moment. He felt untethered, like he was watching the scene unfold from a distance, like this wasn't real.
Alisa Holloway, his mother, stood beside him, but she felt miles away. Her eyes were red and swollen, her body hunched in on itself as if she were physically trying to hold herself together. Since the accident, she hadn't said a word. Not to Zane, not to anyone. She just cried—endlessly, quietly.
Zane wanted to reach for her, to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. He didn't know how to comfort her, didn't know how to comfort himself. How could he? His father, the man who had been so strong, so constant, was gone. Just like that.
Uncle Ben and Aunt Marie stood nearby, their children huddled close. They whispered soft condolences, but Zane didn't hear them. He couldn't. The world around him had become muted, muffled by grief, the sound of the priest's words fading into static. It was like he was trapped in a glass box, watching everything unfold but unable to touch it.
His father's face flashed in his mind—smiling, laughing, alive. But now he was just a body in a box, buried under cold earth. Zane's throat tightened, but no tears came. He hadn't cried. Not since the moment he got the news. He couldn't cry, because once he did, it would be real. And he wasn't ready for that.
The finality of the coffin disappearing from sight hit him like a punch to the gut. It's over, he thought, his chest aching with the weight of it. His father was really gone.
Even as people began to leave, murmuring their sympathy, Zane stayed where he was. He didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe. He just stood there, staring at the fresh dirt piled over his father's grave, his mind numb. The weight of the loss was crushing, but he didn't know how to feel it. It just... sat there, heavy and cold, like a stone pressing down on his heart.
---
Across town, Logan Cruz stood in the underground ring, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as the crowd roared around him. His opponent, a hulking guy covered in tattoos, was on his knees, gasping for breath. But Logan wasn't done yet. The fight had only fueled the fire burning inside him, and he needed more.
Logan grinned, the taste of blood on his lips, as he cracked his knuckles and stepped forward. The guy threw a punch, desperate, but Logan dodged it easily, his reflexes sharp. He moved in quick, his fist connecting with the guy's jaw in one swift motion, sending him sprawling to the ground.
But Logan wasn't satisfied. He ripped off his shirt, his chest heaving as he stood over the man, sweat dripping down his body. The snake tattoo on his back glistened under the dim lights, a dark symbol of the rage that lived inside him. The guy was barely conscious, blood pooling on the mat, but Logan kept going, punching him over and over again until his friends jumped into the ring, pulling him off.
"Logan, stop!" they shouted, trying to drag him back, but Logan's eyes were wild, his body vibrating with adrenaline. He let them pull him away, but the anger still simmered just below the surface, burning through him like a fever.
Outside, Logan grabbed a beer from the back of his car, cracking it open and downing it in one gulp. The cold night air did little to cool him down, the fight still pulsing through his veins. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around him as the chaos of the fight faded into the background.
A blonde girl, her jeans tight and her top low-cut, sidled up to him, her eyes gleaming with lust. "Going home alone tonight?" she asked, her voice dripping with suggestion.
Logan smirked, flicking the cigarette to the ground. "Depends. You coming with me?"
The girl giggled, sliding into the passenger seat of his car. Logan took one last drag before tossing the cigarette and climbing in beside her, the engine roaring to life as they sped off into the night.
Logan's hands gripped the steering wheel as the car sped through the empty streets, the sound of the engine filling the silence between him and the blonde girl beside him. The city lights blurred past them, and for a moment, everything felt like it was slipping away. The tension from the fight still pulsed through his veins, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
When they reached the edge of town, Logan pulled off onto a deserted road, parking under the cover of tall trees that swayed softly in the night breeze. The darkness was thick, wrapping around them like a blanket, and in the silence, the only sound was the low hum of the engine cooling off. The girl didn't wait. She climbed over the console and into the backseat, her hands already working at the buttons of her jeans, her movements quick and eager.
Logan watched her for a second, his mind a blur of adrenaline, lust, and something else he couldn't quite name. He leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply before grabbing a condom from the glove box. As she stripped off her clothes, Logan's eyes traveled over her body, but his mind was elsewhere. This wasn't about her—it was about escape. About drowning out the anger, the emptiness.
He climbed into the backseat beside her, the space cramped and intimate, their bodies close. The heat between them built quickly, the car windows fogging up as the cold night air pressed in from outside. She moved against him, her breath quickening, and Logan responded in kind, his hands roaming over her skin as the tension in his body finally found release.
But even as they lost themselves in the moment, Logan's mind wandered, his thoughts drifting away from the girl beneath him. This wasn't real. None of it was. The connection, the pleasure—it was all just a temporary distraction, a way to forget for a little while. He wasn't really here.
The rhythm between them quickened, her soft gasps filling the small space as they moved together, the intensity building with each passing second. Logan's breath was heavy, his muscles tensed, but there was no real feeling behind it. It was just... empty. The act itself was mechanical, a means to an end, nothing more.
When it was over, the silence in the car was thick, the air heavy with the weight of what they had just done. The girl lay back, a satisfied smile on her lips as she reached for her clothes, but Logan barely looked at her. He was already pulling his jeans back on, his mind somewhere else entirely.
The moment had passed, but the emptiness remained.
—
The evening air felt heavy as Riu walked beside Lana and Soumya down the quiet road leading away from campus. The sunset bathed everything in soft hues of orange and pink, but Riu's mind was far from the peaceful scene. She had been lost in thought ever since Soumya had told her about Zane Holloway's father.
The idea of losing a parent had struck a deep chord inside her. It wasn't something she could easily shake off. She had barely known Zane, but hearing that his father had died in a car accident made her own frustrations with him seem petty. She remembered how angry she'd been when he had bumped into her, covered in blood and clearly distracted. Now, knowing what had happened, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Lana's voice pulled Riu out of her thoughts. "Knowing that Zane's dealing with something so huge? I mean, he's always seemed... invincible."
Riu nodded, still trying to process her feelings. "Yeah. I can't imagine what he's going through." She glanced over at Soumya, who had been quieter than usual, her brows furrowed in thought. "You've known him for longer, right? Was he close to his dad?"
Soumya shrugged. "I mean, we're not exactly friends or anything. But yeah, I've heard from a few people that he and his dad were tight. His dad was... you know, one of those larger-than-life types." She paused, her voice softening. "I guess no matter how tough someone looks, this kind of thing can destroy them."
The conversation fell into a quiet lull, the sound of their footsteps the only thing breaking the silence. Riu's heart felt heavy, though she couldn't quite understand why. She barely knew Zane, but the idea of him hurting, of him carrying all that pain, stirred something inside her. It wasn't attraction—not yet, at least—but maybe... empathy. Compassion.
As they approached a small side street near the main road, a car pulled up beside them. Riu glanced over to see a couple of guys leaning out of the windows, familiar faces from around campus. Zane's friends.
"Hey, Lana!" one of the guys called out. "We're heading to Zane's place—are you coming?"
Lana hesitated, exchanging a glance with Riu and Soumya. She hadn't expected the invite, and for a moment, none of them knew what to say. There was an unspoken tension in the air—a feeling that going to Zane's house would mean stepping into something heavy, something none of them were sure they were ready for.
Before Riu could say anything, Soumya spoke up, her tone quick and decisive. "Yeah, we'll come."
Riu shot her a look, half-surprised by the response. But then again, she hadn't known what to say either. Maybe it was better this way—no second-guessing, no overthinking.
The car ride to Zane's house was quiet, the conversation from earlier lingering in the air like an unfinished sentence. Riu's mind raced, trying to imagine what it would be like to see Zane again, to see him not as the guy who had bumped into her, but as someone grieving, someone who had just lost a part of himself.
As they neared his house, Riu noticed how isolated it seemed. Nestled near the river, Zane's house sat at the edge of a small clearing, the trees surrounding it creating a sense of quiet solitude. The weight of the moment pressed down on her as they parked and got out of the car, the cool evening air wrapping around them.
Zane's friends led the way, and soon they rounded the corner of the house to the backyard. There, in the middle of the yard, sitting in a chair with a guitar resting on his lap, was Zane.
He looked different.
The usual sharpness in his features was softened by the grief that clung to him like a second skin. His hair fell in messy waves over his forehead, and his eyes were tired, the shadows beneath them deeper than before. The slow, haunting melody he strummed on the guitar filled the air, matching the sadness that seemed to hang over everything.
Riu's heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked... broken. And it was strange, seeing someone who had once seemed so distant, so unapproachable, now reduced to this quiet, vulnerable state. The guy who had barely looked at her the other day was now someone entirely different, weighed down by a pain she could almost feel from where she stood.
The group approached quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Zane glanced up, his fingers stilling on the strings as his gaze swept over his friends. When his eyes landed on Riu, something flickered in his expression—recognition, but also surprise. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to place her, before his gaze shifted back to his friends.
One of the guys stepped forward first, his voice soft. "Zane, we wanted to come check on you."
Zane didn't respond immediately. He set his guitar down beside him, leaning back in his chair as if just sitting up straight was too much effort. His eyes drifted to Riu again, and this time, they lingered. She felt the weight of his gaze, like he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her.
"Who are they?" Zane's voice was low, rough from disuse. It wasn't hostile—just tired.
Lana, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "This is Soumya, and this is Riu. They're new."
Zane's gaze settled on Riu, studying her for a moment longer. There was something in his eyes—something unreadable, but not unkind. Riu shifted slightly, unsure of what to say, but feeling like she needed to acknowledge... something. The tension between them felt heavy, and she wasn't sure how to break it.
Taking a breath, she stepped forward. "Aren't you the guy who bumped into me after your fight?" Her voice was softer than usual, but steady.
For a moment, Zane didn't respond. His expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe. Or recognition. He nodded slowly, his voice quieter than she expected. "Yeah. That was me."
Riu hesitated, feeling a strange pull in her chest. She hadn't expected him to acknowledge it, let alone apologize. But when he spoke again, it caught her off guard.
"I'm sorry about that." His voice was low, almost a murmur. "I wasn't... in the right headspace."
It was a simple apology, but the sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten. She had been angry at him before, but now... now it all felt so small, so insignificant in the face of what he was going through.
"It's okay," Riu said quietly, her eyes meeting his. "I get it. What you're going through... it's so much bigger than any of that."
Her words seemed to hang in the air between them, and for a moment, Zane's tough exterior seemed to crack. He didn't respond, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable, like the weight of his grief had finally pushed past the walls he had built around himself.
The group settled into the yard, Zane's friends sitting nearby, their attempts at conversation light but strained. Zane, however, remained quiet, his eyes occasionally drifting back to the guitar at his side. He didn't join the conversation, but his presence was heavy, as if his silence said more than any words could.
Riu stayed a little apart from the others, watching him. There was something about the way he carried himself now, something that made her feel a pull toward him—a pull she didn't fully understand. Maybe it was the vulnerability he couldn't hide anymore, or maybe it was the quiet sadness that seemed to cling to him like a shadow.
As the night deepened, Zane reached for his guitar again, his fingers finding the strings almost instinctively. He strummed a slow, soft melody, the sound of it filling the quiet air. It was a tune filled with sadness, but also with something else—a sense of longing, of something lost that couldn't be found.
Riu closed her eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over her. It was beautiful, and in its beauty, it carried a sadness that felt almost like a confession—a confession of pain, of grief, of everything Zane couldn't say out loud.
And as she stood there, listening, Riu realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one who felt the pull.
---
The night had grown quieter as the group settled into Zane's house. The soft strumming of Zane's guitar still lingered in the back of Riu's mind, a melancholic tune that echoed through the stillness of the evening. She hadn't expected to feel this drawn to him, not after their rocky first encounter, but there was something about seeing him in this moment—vulnerable, broken—that stirred something deeper inside her.
After some time outside with the others, Riu wandered through the halls of Zane's house. It was larger than she expected, with a kind of warmth that clashed against the grief weighing heavily in the air. She wasn't sure why she kept moving, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, leading her further inside, toward a small side room.
As she turned the corner, there he was.
Zane, standing alone near a large window, the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows over his features. He had his back to her, his hand resting lightly on the guitar propped against the wall. His posture was tense, his shoulders hunched slightly as if the weight of the world had settled on them. There was a quiet stillness about him that made Riu hesitate, unsure if she should interrupt.
But then he turned, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like there were too many things left unsaid. Riu's heart raced, but she took a step forward, her voice soft but steady.
"Hey... I didn't mean to intrude. I just..." She trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. What could she say? That she was drawn to him? That she wanted to understand him?
Zane gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "You're not intruding," he said, his voice low and rough, like he hadn't spoken in hours. "I just needed a minute."
Riu hesitated for a second, then stepped further into the room. The air between them felt charged with something—something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She wasn't used to this, to feeling so connected to someone she barely knew, but here she was.
"I don't really know what to say," Riu admitted, her eyes searching his face. "But... I'm sorry. About your dad."
Zane's gaze flickered, his hand tightening on the neck of the guitar. He didn't respond right away, his eyes drifting back to the window for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost like he was talking more to himself than to her.
"Do you know this guitar?" He nodded toward it, his fingers brushing over the strings lightly. "My dad gave it to me when I was 8 years old."
Riu's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected him to open up, especially not like this. She could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his voice wavered ever so slightly as he spoke.
"He loved music," Zane continued, his voice growing softer. "It was his thing, you know? He always wanted me to be a singer. Said I had something special." He let out a short, bitter laugh. "I never really believed him."
Riu stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "You should. I heard you play earlier—you're incredible."
Zane's lips twitched, but it wasn't quite a smile. "My dad... he thought I'd make it one day. He used to sit with me, playing for hours. It was his dream. I just—" He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. His jaw tightened, the pain of the memories evident in every line of his face.
Riu's heart ached for him. She could see how much this hurt, how much his father's death had taken from him—not just the man, but the dreams they'd shared. The weight of it all hung over him like a dark cloud, and for a moment, she wished she could do something, anything, to lift it, even if just for a second.
"Zane," Riu said softly, stepping even closer. "You are everything your dad believed you could be. You've got the talent, the heart. You keep doing this—keep playing, keep working at it—you'll be one of the best singers out there. I know it."
Her words were quiet but filled with conviction. She meant every one of them, and she hoped he could feel that. She hoped he believed it, even if just a little.
Zane's gaze met hers, and for a moment, the wall he'd built around himself seemed to crack. His eyes softened, the hardness that usually defined his features fading, replaced by something more vulnerable, more real. He looked at her like he wasn't used to being seen—not like this.
"You think so?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Riu nodded, her gaze steady. "I do. And I think your dad would want you to keep going. For him, but mostly for yourself."
Zane's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to spill over. He didn't respond right away, but Riu could see it—the way her words had gotten through to him, even if he wasn't ready to fully accept them yet.
"Thanks," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. He looked away, blinking hard as if trying to push the tears back, but Riu could see the depth of his grief—the way it weighed on him, pulling him down into something darker.
She wanted to reach out, to touch his arm, to offer some small comfort, but she held back. This moment was his, and she didn't want to intrude on it. Sometimes, just being there was enough.
The silence between them stretched on, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full, charged with unspoken words, with the weight of what they both felt but couldn't say.
Finally, Zane took a deep breath, his fingers brushing over the guitar again. "It's just hard, you know?" he murmured, his voice quiet. "Everything feels... wrong. Like nothing's ever going to be the same again."
Riu nodded, her voice soft. "I know. And maybe it won't be the same. But that doesn't mean you can't find something new. Something just as important."
Zane's eyes met hers, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of something else—hope, maybe. It was small, but it was there.
And in that moment, Riu knew that this was only the beginning. The beginning of something neither of them could fully understand yet, but something that mattered. Something real.