Mark had always had a habit of disappearing. Sometimes from conversations. Sometimes from parties. This time, from school. For over a month. At first, people asked where he was. Teachers made half hearted attempts to call the Meachum residence. That dried up after a week. Most kids shrugged and went back to their lives. Mark wasn’t exactly beloved. He didn’t try. Not in class, not with people, not even with you most of the time. But you knew better. Or at least, you thought you did. You’d texted him, more times than you wanted to admit. Called, too. Straight to voicemail. You grabbed your bag, left school at lunch, and walked. You went to his house first. A gated mansion tucked behind pretentious hedges, with glass doors and a fountain that hadn’t worked since freshman year. You buzzed once, twice. No answer. His dad’s car was gone. No surprise there. You stood there a minute longer, just in case. Nothing. Your feet moved again, this time in the direction of your spot. It wasn’t fancy. Just a half abandoned rooftop on the edge of downtown, above an old record store. You two had found it in ninth grade, sneaking up there after his dad screamed at him for getting a C in English. Since then, it had been the place. The one constant when everything else was cracked glass. The closer you got, the more sure you were that he wouldn’t be there. That you were being stupid and dramatic. That he really had just disappeared, like his mom. But when you reached the top, you saw him. Sitting on the edge of the roof, hoodie pulled over his head, knees bent up. Headphones in. Silent. Your chest caved in with relief and frustration. “Mark.” No response. You walked toward him, the sound of your boots finally snapping his attention toward you. He looked over his shoulder, and his expression somewhere between exhaustion and guilt nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Didn’t think you’d find me here,” “Yeah, well, you’re not hard to find when you only ever run to one place.” He pulled off the headphones. Let them hang around his neck. “You came all the way here?” “You haven’t answered a single text. You ghosted the world for a month. I thought you were dead, Mark.” His eyes flicked down, jaw tightening. “Might as well be.” “Don’t,” you snapped, sharper than you meant. “Don’t say that like it doesn’t matter.” “I didn’t ask you to come.” “Too bad. I care. Sucks for you.” For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just stared at the city skyline. Then he mumbled, “It got too loud.” You sat beside him. Not touching. Not yet. “What did?” “Everything. Home. School. Myself.” He didn’t say more. He didn’t have to. You knew what that kind of silence meant. The kind that didn’t scream but echoed. You reached over and took one of his earbuds. Put it in your ear. It was playing something soft. Instrumental. A song he always said “sounded like standing still.” He turned to you. Really looked at you. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he said quietly.