Chasing Cyrus

Derick First Person Point Of View

I remained silent, with a sense of awkwardness seething within my chest.

It was pretty foolish of me to think it would've been Cyrus. I just went along with Troy from then on without speaking up, my head reeling again. That was way too close.

We pulled into the motorcycle shop parking lot, and boy, the air was just full of that rubber and oil smell.

Troy locked up his bike and hopped off, stretching as if we weren't in a rather questionable situation.

Time just sort of disappeared as we entered, and Troy was already his normal cocky self again.

He completely checked out the cashier, you know, the pretty one with dark hair tied back into a messy ponytail.

He propped himself against the counter and tossed a corny pickup line.

She seemed sorta bored, but that didn't prevent him from giving it a go anyway.

While he was busy flirting, I wandered off, still shaken from earlier.

I browsed the shop, but to be honest, nothing much caught my attention.

I saw Troy laughing at the front, and it completely brought me back to earth just as he was slipping a few of the important-looking hangers into his jacket pocket as the cashier was distracted.

I smirked, shaking my head.

Classic Troy.

It was already getting dark when we finally departed, with long shadows on the sidewalk as the sun set.

Troy playfully smacked me on the back, smiling like a mischievous kid who just successfully played a sneaky trick.

"Dude, you've gotta relax. Honestly, I have no idea what is wrong with you today." I brushed it off, attempting to play it cool, but I couldn't get Cyrus off my mind.

Something about today just didn't feel right, and it was bothering me. And so Troy and I spent the day cruising around town, catching up with Marcus and the crew, and attending that pool party they were always talking about.

As soon as we arrived at the spot, I could tell the party was a bust.

A few girls were setting up the usual things: extra towels, red solo cups, and a makeshift bar stocked with cheap liquor.

The air felt too quiet, like everyone was waiting for something to happen but it just hadn't yet.

Troy and I didn't bother changing out of our clothes. We just followed Marcus and the others in their car.

There was no point in dressing up when we didn't know how the party would go.

As we got closer, I noticed Arzhel pacing to the side, his phone glued to his ear.

His short jeans hung low, revealing the waistband of his swim trunks and that annoying V-line on his abs.

But he didn't look relaxed. He looked worried. I could guess who he was talking to.

I watched him, stepping a bit closer to catch his words, but just as I got near enough to hear, he brushed past me like I wasn't there.

I caught one sentence: "I know, this is the worst day ever, just hold on." His voice had a rough edge, like whatever was happening with Cyrus was really getting to him.

My stomach dropped, but I tried to keep my cool.

I followed him across the yard, where Marcus and a couple other guys were hanging around, probably waiting for the party to kick off.

As soon as Arzhel reached them, all the guys turned his way.

"Marcus, can you drive me somewhere? It's urgent," Arzhel said, getting straight to the point.

Marcus squinted, pretending to think carefully. Then, with a smirk, he replied, "Hmm, I might, but can you suck it?"

The guys burst into laughter, doubling over while Arzhel stood there, glaring at them in disgust.

But he wasn't giving up.

"I'm serious. Parker's car broke down at the worst time, and you're the only one I trust around here."

"You know," he added, wanting to make sure Marcus didn't take it the wrong way.

Marcus shook his head and casually threw his arm over one of the girls nearby, grinning at Arzhel.

"Nah, man. I'm good. You'll figure it out."

Arzhel rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck.

He was fed up with Marcus's nonsense, but there wasn't much he could do.

He turned away from the group, frustration clear in the way his hands clenched into fists.

I stepped forward, trying to seem casual, but I needed to know what was going on.

"Yo, Arzhel, everything good with Cy?" I asked.

He paused, considering whether to say anything.

Then he glanced over at Marcus, still laughing, and said, "Yes."

Before I could think, Arzhel walked away again, shaking his head as if he was trying to come up with a plan that wouldn't involve these idiots.

Troy nudged me, clearly clueless about everything. "You good? You're acting weird."

I brushed it off. Something was going to happen tonight, and I didn't feel right leaving Cyrus to handle it alone.

For now, I had to stay cool and figure out my next move, so I followed Arzhel.

I kept my distance as he stalked away from the group, his fists clenched, but I couldn't shake the feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong with Cyrus. Arzhel wasn't just worried; he was angry too.

I knew the guys would give me a hard time later for this, but I wasn't going to let it go.

I sped up, catching up to him just as he rounded the corner of the house, out of sight from the others.

"Yo, Arzhel," I called quietly enough not to draw too much attention but loud enough to stop him in his tracks.

He turned around, eyes wide as if I had caught him off guard.

"What the hell, Derick?" he snapped, glaring at me.

"What's going on? What's wrong with Cy?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

I almost slipped again.

Arzhel ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

"This is all your fault. You wanted to play hero and bring him home, didn't you? Look where that got him. His dad's freaking out, and now he's scared."

His words cut deep, striking me harder than I expected.

I stayed quiet, letting him vent. He wasn't finished.

"You're no better than Marcus or the others," Arzhel continued, his voice rising.

"You act like you're different, like you're some nice guy because you feel bad sometimes. But you're not. You're just like them."

I let him unleash. I could see how much he blamed himself for all of this, but I wasn't going to add to his anger. I remained silent.

Then, just as his rant seemed to lose steam, a weak, shaky voice came from his phone. "Hello?" It was Cyrus, barely a whisper.

Arzhel froze for a moment, his anger shifting to something else—worry, maybe fear.

He lifted the phone back to his ear and mumbled something I couldn't catch.

I took a step closer. "Look, man, I can give you a ride," I offered, my voice steady.

Arzhel turned to me, narrowing his eyes. For a second, I thought he would tell me to back off.

But then he hesitated, mulling it over.

His jaw tightened, and after a long moment, he finally said, "Fine, but you're not getting out of this. You're coming with me to pick him up."

"Pick who up?" I acted dumb.

"You said his name twice." Arzhel rolled his eyes at me in disgust.

He didn't wait after I offered to help.

He lifted his phone again, speaking into it, his tone softer but still edged with worry.

"Cyrus, just hold on, alright? I'm going to fix this. I'm coming to get you." With that, he looked directly at me.

"Where's your car?" Arzhel asked, crossing his arms, clearly expecting me to have a way to get both of us to Cyrus.

I smirked and shook my head. "I don't have a car. I have my bike."

Arzhel blinked, narrowing his eyes like he couldn't believe it.

"You have a bike? How am I supposed to come along?"

His voice rose, clear frustration in every word.

"What, am I meant to just leave it to you?"

I shrugged, staying calm, knowing this wouldn't go smoothly.

"You can't come, Arzhel. Not on the bike."

His shock quickly turned to anger, his hands clenching into fists.

"Are you serious? This is my problem too! I can't just let you go alone."

I remained silent, which only made him angrier.

"Fine, what about Troy? He's got a bike; he can—"

Before he could finish, I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look me in the eye.

He tensed up, but I leaned in closer, my voice low and firm.

"The guys can't know about this," I said, each word slow and deliberate.

Arzhel's eyes flared with anger. He jerked his face away, wiping his mouth as if he couldn't believe I touched him.

"That proves everything I said earlier," he spat, disgust filling his voice. "You're no better than them."

I watched him step back, still fuming, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

"Make sure he's safe," Arzhel said quietly but still intense.

"Just... make sure."

With that, he turned away from me, not waiting for more explanations, leaving me standing there in the shadows.

I let out a breath and shook my head. As much as he was angry, he was right about one thing.

I had to make sure Cyrus was safe, no matter what.

Arzhel walked away, pulling out his phone. I heard him pacing, his voice low but tense as he spoke into it.

"Cyrus, listen..."