Her eyes flick back to the screen, then to her laptop, like she’s checking if she missed something. After a second, her shaky hand slowly lifts again, but Cade turns his back and walks to his laptop, clicking forward without a word.
I huff out a breath of laughter as she quickly lowers her hand and glances at her friend beside her with wide eyes.
I knew he’d cheer me up.
The next slide shows a similar line across the screen, but this one is lower. The shape still moves and follows the same path, but the lift is gone. It just drags along the bottom, like it’s trying to hold itself up and failing more the farther it goes.
Cade keeps his eyes on it for a moment in silence before he tears his gaze away from it. “This is a system that still functions, and goes through the motions,” he says. “It runs what it’s supposed to, follows the rules it was built on, and repeats the pattern it was given. But movement doesn’t mean strength. It just means the collapse hasn’t finished yet.”
Cade reaches for his travel mug on the desk and takes a long drink. And I see the slight wince on his face before he sets it down again. Like the drink inside that mug is not the warm, velvety liquid everyone thinks it is.
I let my gaze drag over him, taking in his messy light brown hair, looking like his hand has been run through it too manytimes. His eyes look tired, and the crease between his brows is deeper than usual.
There’s something different going on today, more than his usual hostility towards his students.
It almost looks like defeat.
“This wave will still complete the cycle, and tick through every step it’s supposed to. But when all the height is gone, and there’s no rise left in it, the motion starts to mean less.” He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at his mug again. But he doesn’t reach for it. “It won’t build or push forward. It will just continue as is, because that’s all it knows how to do in a bound state. The amplitude might still carry forward, but it keeps losing height each time, until there’s nothing left to rise.”
His gaze finds me, and my brows draw together as I take in the look in his eyes. And even from here, I can see it.
A silent plea for help.
He holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away, glancing out across the room like he just remembered he’s still in it.
“That’s it,” he says, so softly I almost don’t hear him. “Good luck on exams.”
The room is silent for a couple seconds, then the quiet sounds of murmurs and laptops closing fill the room. Curious and frightened eyes land on me as students begin making their way out of the room, but I don’t pay them any attention.
I watch Cade at the front of the room, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, staring right back at me.
The door clicks shut behind the last student, and the room settles into silence. But I don’t move.
Each time we’ve been in this exact spot, I’ve gone to him.
This time, however, he needs to come to me. If that plea in his eyes means anything, he needs to set it into motion himself.
But Cade just continues to stare up at me, stubborn as ever.
God, I fucking love him.
“I’m not coming down there, baby,” I say, settling back into my seat. “And I have time.”
He rolls his eyes and pushes off the desk, heading up the stairs towards me. I watch him with each step, like the act alone is draining everything out of him and he’s slowly falling off, just like the wave on the screen behind him.
He drops into the seat beside me, but his eyes stay fixed straight ahead, glued to the screen as though the slide still has something left to say.
But it doesn’t.
I reach out and grab his face, turning it towards me with force. His eyes land on mine, and I stare into them as I hold him right where I need him.
But those beautiful dark blue eyes are completely empty.
I squeeze his jaw harder as I stare into his eyes, willing something to spark to life inside them. But nothing comes.
So I release him and lean back again, draping my arm across the back of his chair. “Talk.”
He glares at me for a moment before his gaze falls, like he doesn’t even have the energy to hold on to it.
