Chapter 43 #2
Jay’s breath hitched, his heart thudding loudly enough Rain could feel the vibration through his aura.
“What are you doing?” Jay whispered, voice fragile, betraying nerves he couldn’t hide.
Rain kept his hand steady, his expression soft but focused.
“Helping you. You’re in a lot of pain.”
Jay looked away, jaw tightening.
“You don’t have to do that anymore,” he murmured. “I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t deserve the perk.”
The words hit Rain like a slap.
He shot Jay a sharp look; hurt, incredulous, stung.
“I don’t help you as a perk,” Rain said, voice low and firm. “I’m not a gimmick you got to enjoy for a while.”
Jay flinched.
Rain exhaled, the edge in his tone softening.
“I thought we were still friends,” he admitted quietly. “Are we not?”
The question hung between them like a blade.
Rain had never done this before, the breakup thing. His past relationships had ended cleanly, casually, without emotional fallout. Ivy had been the closest thing to heartbreak, and even that had been… simple. Mutual. Predictable.
But this?
This felt like losing a limb.
Before Jay could answer, Wren’s voice cut through the air.
“Jay, you’re up!”
She jogged toward them, her trainers kicking up dust, her braid swinging sharply behind her.
The moment her eyes landed on Rain sitting beside Jay, her expression hardened; suspicion flaring bright and immediate.
Her shoulders squared, her jaw tightened, and she looked ready to launch herself between them if necessary.
Rain didn’t give Jay the chance to speak.
“No,” Rain said, tone firm, unwavering. “He’s done for today. Mark him down as last place.”
He didn’t even look at Wren.
Didn’t acknowledge the glare she shot him; sharp, probing, accusatory.
He simply shut the door on any argument before it could begin.
“What?! No, I’m running. I just needed a minute.” Jay’s voice cracked with stubbornness and desperation. He pushed himself upright, breath hitching, trying to prove he wasn’t as fragile as he felt.
Rain turned to him, expression unyielding.
“No, you’re not,” he said, voice low but absolute. “You’re only able to speak right now because I’ve taken away your pain. The second I stop; you’ll be suffering again.”
To prove it, Rain lifted his hand from Jay’s shoulder.
The effect was instant.
Jay gasped; a sharp, strangled sound and folded inward, clutching his side as the pain slammed back into him. His face drained of colour, sweat beading along his brow.
Rain’s chest tightened with sympathy. He immediately pressed his palm back onto Jay’s shoulder, absorbing the pain again. Jay’s breath steadied, his body loosening as the agony bled out of him.
“See?” Rain murmured, voice gentler now. “If you push yourself too far, you won’t be able to compete. And if that’s the case, we might as well drop out now to save ourselves the disappointment.”
The truth of it settled heavily between them.
Jay’s shoulders sagged, resignation pulling at the corners of his mouth.
At that moment, Wren strode up with purpose, her hands planted firmly on her hips, chin lifted, eyes blazing with protective fury. She looked ready to fight someone. Anyone. Rain included.
Rain blinked, genuinely confused.
Why was she suddenly acting like Jay’s personal guard dog?
“What is going on?” she demanded, her stance wide, her glare sharp enough to cut stone.
Rain met her stare evenly, refusing to be intimidated.
“What is it you’re afraid of happening, Wren?”
Jay panicked.
“Rain’s just taking away my pain,” he blurted, shifting instinctively and immediately regretting it. Rain inhaled sharply as Jay’s pain spiked, hot and jagged, slicing through him like a blade.
“Oh gods, sorry,” Jay whispered, freezing in place, terrified of causing more pain to either of them.
He swallowed hard, voice trembling with embarrassment and self-reproach.
“I started hurting after the second lap. I pushed through when I shouldn’t have. I should’ve walked it instead. It’s stupid, I know. He’s just helping.”
Wren’s posture faltered.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her cheeks flushed a deep, mortified red.
She rocked back on her heels, suddenly looking very small for someone who’d marched over like a warrior ready for battle.
“Oh. Sorry. It’s just… you asked—”
Jay snapped his head toward her, eyes wide, silently begging her to stop talking.
She cleared her throat, flustered.
“Alright. You’re okay. Keep resting for now.” Her voice softened, trying to recover her composure. “We’ll go ahead and start the 200-metres. Um… join us when you’re ready.”
Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and jogged back toward Jasmine, her stride stiff with awkwardness.
Rain watched her go, then turned back to Jay.
His voice was steady.
Quiet.
But there was no question in it.
“You asked her to keep me away from you.”
Jay’s eyes stayed glued to the ground.
He didn’t even try to look up.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I thought it would be better for both of us. Just… for now.”
The words were soft.
But they sliced cleanly.
Rain felt the ache bloom in his chest, like a bruise spreading beneath the skin. His breath caught, his ribs tightening around the hurt. Jay’s aura pulsed with guilt, fear, longing, and a desperate attempt at self-preservation.
Rain felt every bit of it.
Every jagged edge.
Every tremor of regret.
And it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
“Ok, I understand.”
Rain said it calmly, evenly, but the sting in his heart didn’t understand any of this. His chest tightened, a slow, bruising ache blooming beside the extracted pain beneath his ribs, but he refused to let it show. He kept his expression neutral, steady, controlled.
“At least I’ve been able to give you some relief from your pain,” he continued, voice softening. “It’s slowly easing but it’ll be sore for some time. I’ll let go now, but you should stay still and take it easy for the rest of the day.”
He hesitated; a small pause, barely a breath, weighing whether he should say more.
He decided he needed to.
Jay’s insecurities were a dangerous thing; left unchecked, they would drive him straight into further injury.
“My advice would be to walk tomorrow,” Rain added gently. “Try for a slow jog on Gildsday. We need you to take care of yourself.”
Jay’s aura flickered again, the same ragged concoction of guilt, shame, longing and fear.
Rain swallowed hard.
“You’re not a burden, by the way,” he said, voice low but firm. “None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you and Wren. So, you don’t need to push yourself to prove anything, because you have nothing to prove.”
He felt Jay’s breath falter.
Felt the way those words hit him, like a balm and a blade at once.
“We love you…” Rain’s voice wavered, just slightly. “And we hate to see you hurting.”
He offered a tight, fragile smile— the kind that didn’t reach his eyes—then released his grip.
The pain slid out of him like a tide receding, leaving behind a hollow ache that wasn’t physical at all.
Rain stood, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders curling inward as though bracing against a cold wind. His heart sat high in his throat, thick and heavy, threatening to choke him.
He turned away.
“Thank you,” Jay called after him, voice small, meek, almost swallowed by the open field.
Rain lifted a hand in acknowledgement; a silent gesture, a half-hearted wave, but he didn’t turn around.
He couldn’t.
If he saw Jay’s face right now. Truly saw the regret, the softness, the sadness in his features, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away at all.
So, he kept moving.
Hands in pockets.
Jaw clenched.
Heart breaking quietly beneath the morning sun.