Drifting Lines

Caesar wasn't sure when it had started, but things felt different.

Not in a bad way. Just… different.

He and Blythe still walked home together. They still talked, still shared their usual routines. But there was a quietness between them that hadn't been there before. It wasn't awkward—just heavy, like unspoken thoughts were settling in the air between them.

It had been a few days since Blythe told him about her father. She hadn't brought it up again, and Caesar, in his usual way, didn't ask. He figured if she wanted to talk, she would.

For now, they just existed in this quiet, snow-dusted space between familiarity and uncertainty.

---

The change wasn't just between them. Caesar could feel it everywhere.

Lately, people had started noticing him more.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—the occasional glance in the hallway, the murmurs when he walked past. But then there were the little things.

A junior had asked him for help with their literature assignment. Someone he barely knew had invited him to a study group. Even Zach mentioned offhandedly, "People are starting to know your name, man."

Caesar wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He had always been fine on the sidelines, tucked neatly away in the background. His world had been small, quiet. But now, it felt like something was shifting.

And Blythe noticed.

"You're getting popular," she said one afternoon as they walked past the school courtyard.

Caesar adjusted his glasses. "Am I?"

Blythe hummed. "People have been talking about you. Mostly good things."

"Mostly?"

"Well, some people think you're a little scary." She grinned. "You know, the whole 'silent, brooding genius' thing."

Caesar rolled his eyes. "That's dumb."

"I dunno. I think it suits you."

He gave her a look, and Blythe just laughed.

But even as she joked, there was something thoughtful in her expression. Like she was watching him closely, taking in the way people were starting to see him differently.

Caesar wasn't sure why, but it made his chest feel tight.

---

The next morning, he arrived at school earlier than usual. The hallways were quieter, mostly empty except for a few students loitering near their lockers.

As he made his way to his classroom, he heard voices coming from around the corner. He wasn't paying much attention—until he caught a familiar name.

"…Blythe's pretty, but she's kinda hard to approach."

Caesar stopped walking.

"She's always with that guy—what's his name? Caesar?"

"Yeah. He's weird, right?"

A laugh. "Yeah, but kinda cool? I dunno, I heard he's smart. And apparently, he's been helping people out lately."

Caesar clenched his jaw.

He knew he should just keep walking. He didn't care what people thought about him. But when it came to Blythe—when people talked about her like she was some kind of puzzle to be solved—he felt something unfamiliar simmer in his chest.

Without thinking, he turned the corner.

The group of students—three boys from another class—looked up in surprise. One of them immediately looked nervous. "Oh. Uh, hey."

Caesar didn't say anything. He just stared, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched. The boys fidgeted under his gaze.

Then one of them muttered, "Told you he was scary," before quickly walking away. The others followed.

Caesar exhaled slowly.

He wasn't sure why it annoyed him so much.

Maybe it was the way they had talked about Blythe like she was some unreachable prize. Or maybe it was the way his name had come up—like he was some kind of barrier, standing between her and the rest of the world.

Whatever it was, it stuck with him for the rest of the day.

---

By the time classes ended, Caesar was still thinking about it.

He didn't bring it up when he met up with Blythe after school. He figured it wasn't worth mentioning.

But as they walked, Blythe suddenly asked, "Hey… is something wrong?"

Caesar blinked. "Why?"

"You've been quiet." She nudged him lightly. "Well, quieter than usual."

He hesitated.

Then, after a pause, he said, "Do you ever feel like people only see what they want to see?"

Blythe tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"…Like they don't really know you. Just the version of you they've made up in their heads."

Blythe was quiet for a moment.

Then, softly, she said, "Yeah. All the time."

Caesar looked at her.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "People have their own ideas of me. Some think I'm just the 'cute girl.' Some think I'm stuck-up. Some think I'm fragile, like I'll break if they say the wrong thing."

Her hands curled into her sleeves. "It's… exhausting, sometimes."

Caesar studied her expression.

Then, after a moment, he said, "I don't think any of those things about you."

Blythe blinked, caught off guard.

He looked ahead, adjusting his glasses. "I just think you're you."

For a second, she didn't respond.

Then, finally, she smiled—this time, a real one.

"…Thanks, Caesar."

He nodded.

And just like that, the weight in his chest eased.

They didn't need the world to understand them.

As long as they understood each other, that was enough.