Cracks in the Foundation

Caesar wasn't avoiding Blythe.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

It wasn't like he was hiding from her or going out of his way to change his routine. He still walked the same halls, still sat in the same classes, still existed in the same spaces as always. But somehow, without meaning to, he started slipping away. He spoke less when she was around. He let conversations trail off into nothing. He made excuses when she asked if he wanted to hang out after school.

And the worst part? Blythe noticed.

She didn't bring it up immediately, but he could tell. The way her smiles didn't last as long. The way she hesitated before speaking. The way her bright, easy energy dulled, just slightly, whenever she looked at him.

She was waiting for him to say something.

But he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

So he said nothing.

And eventually, Blythe stopped waiting.

---

It all came to a head on a Wednesday afternoon.

Caesar had been planning to leave school quickly, maybe even take the long way home just to clear his head. But Blythe had other plans.

She caught him near the lockers, stepping into his path before he could disappear like usual.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms. "Are you going to tell me what your problem is, or do I have to guess?"

Caesar adjusted his glasses, keeping his expression blank. "I don't have a problem."

Blythe let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, really? So you just happened to start acting weird all of a sudden? Ignoring my texts, avoiding me, barely talking?"

"I've been busy."

She scoffed. "Right. Busy. And I guess that also explains why you can't even look at me half the time?"

He was looking at her now, but the accusation still hit hard.

Caesar exhaled slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're overthinking it."

Blythe's eyes narrowed. "Don't do that. Don't act like I'm making something out of nothing. You've been acting different, and you know it."

He didn't answer.

Because she was right.

And the worst part? He didn't even have a real excuse.

It wasn't like she had done anything to him. It wasn't like she had changed or treated him differently. But something in him had shifted, and he couldn't figure out how to undo it.

Blythe sighed, running a hand through her platinum hair. "Look, if you're mad at me for something, just say it. If I did something, I'd rather know."

Caesar clenched his jaw. He could feel the words rising in his throat, sharp and bitter and reckless.

You're always talking to him.

You act like I don't exist when you're around other people.

You make it look so easy.

But he couldn't say any of that. Not without sounding pathetic. Not without exposing the ugly, tangled mess of emotions he didn't even fully understand.

So instead, he said, "I'm not mad."

Blythe stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for something he wasn't willing to give.

Then she shook her head, letting out a breath that sounded like frustration and disappointment all at once.

"Fine," she muttered. "If that's how you want to play it."

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

For the first time, she was the one leaving him behind.

And for some reason, that made Caesar's chest feel uncomfortably tight.

---

The silence between them stretched into the following days.

For the first time in months, Blythe didn't wait for him outside class. She didn't send him texts. She didn't try to catch his attention in the hallways. It was strange—how quickly she seemed to adapt, how easily she adjusted to his absence.

And that should have made things easier.

But instead, it made him restless.

He caught himself looking for her without meaning to, his gaze automatically searching for platinum blonde hair in the crowd. He noticed when she laughed in class, when she smiled at other people, when she existed in spaces that no longer included him.

And every time, something in his stomach twisted.

Maybe he had expected her to push harder. Maybe he had assumed she'd keep prying, keep demanding answers, keep trying. But instead, she had just… stopped.

And that bothered him more than it should have.

---

The next time they spoke, it wasn't because Caesar had planned it.

It was because he couldn't help it.

It was another after-school afternoon, and once again, Blythe was standing near the entrance, talking to Felix.

Caesar wasn't even sure what pushed him over the edge.

Maybe it was the way Felix leaned in slightly when he spoke to her, casual but comfortable. Maybe it was the way Blythe tilted her head, her expression open, engaged, like she actually cared about what he was saying. Maybe it was the way she had been acting like everything was fine, like losing Caesar's presence in her life didn't affect her at all.

Whatever the reason, he found himself walking toward them before he could stop himself.

Blythe noticed him first.

She blinked in surprise, as if she hadn't expected him to acknowledge her existence. "Caesar?"

Felix glanced between them, brows raising slightly. "Hey, man."

Caesar ignored him. His attention was locked on Blythe, on the easy way she had been standing, on the way she wasn't expecting him to be there.

"Can we talk?"

Blythe hesitated. Then, after a moment, she nodded.

She stepped away from Felix, following Caesar a few steps down the hall. Once they were far enough that no one could hear, she crossed her arms, giving him a measured look.

"Well?"

Caesar exhaled. "I—" He stopped. He didn't know what he wanted to say.

Blythe shook her head. "You don't get to just ignore me for days and then suddenly decide you want to talk."

"I wasn't ignoring you."

"Oh, really?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Then what do you call it?"

Caesar clenched his jaw. "I just needed time to think."

"Think about what?"

He hesitated.

Then, before he could stop himself, he said, "About us."

Blythe froze.

Something unreadable flickered across her face—shock, confusion, maybe something else he couldn't quite name.

"Us?" she repeated.

Caesar swallowed. "Yeah."

The silence between them stretched, tense and heavy.

Then, finally, Blythe let out a slow breath. "You're exhausting, you know that?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You push me away, act like you don't care, won't even talk to me, and now you suddenly want to have a conversation about 'us'?" She shook her head. "What do you even want from me, Caesar?"

He didn't know.

And maybe that was the problem.

Blythe waited for an answer, but when he didn't give one, she let out a quiet, tired laugh.

"Forget it," she muttered. "I don't have time for this."

And just like that, she walked away.

This time, Caesar didn't stop her.