[ Fran's POV ]
Fck.* My head was spinning so violently I had to lean against the gate just to stay upright. My friends had dropped me off after hours of drinking at the bar, their laughter still ringing in my ears like a mocking echo.
The apartment was dim. Even the veranda light, the one Rain always left on for me, it was dark...
The silence of the hallway felt like a physical weight. I pounded on the door, the sound sharp and aggressive in the quiet night.
"Hey, Rain! Open up!" I shouted, fumbling for the knob.
It wouldn't budge. Sht.* It was locked. He had actually locked me out.
My stomach lurched, and I barely made it to the side before I was retching into the shadows.
"RAIN!" I roared, my voice raw.
He wasn't home.
The realization made my blood boil. In a fit of pure, drunken rage, I swung my foot and kicked the door with everything I had. The wood groaned under my boot, but the silence from inside was louder.
Fck this life, and fck this door!
[ Rain's POV ]
My head felt like it was being split open by a dull axe, and my stomach was a hollow pit of rising acid.
"Ahh... Fra—" I caught the name before it could fully leave my lips. I had turned over, but the smell wasn't familiar, it wasn't the smell of sharp sting of peppermint that usually woke me up.
I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.
Right. I wasn't home. I saw a silhouette in the kitchen. As my vision cleared, I realized it was Sean.
"Rain? You're awake? Want to vomit?" he asked, his voice filled with panic when he saw me clumping my stomach, and he rushed over to assist me to the bathroom.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, leaning against the cool tiles once the wave of nausea passed. "I'm always like this when I drink. My stomach... it just can't take it."
"It's okay. Come here, I made some rice soup," he said gently, helping me back to the table.
"Thank you. Maybe you should be the one cooking our lunch every day now," I teased weakly.
"Nah. Your cooking is better. I'm not giving up on that," he said with a small, playful grin.
I managed a weak smile, but it vanished the moment I checked my phone. 99+ notifications. Missed calls, texts, Messenger pings, a digital flood, all from Fran.
My heart hammered against my ribs. What if something happened to him? So I picked it up, ready to call back, then stopped.
No. He's just going to insult me again.
I turned the phone off and shoved it into my bag. I didn't want to hear his voice. Not today.
"I'll go to the mall and buy some necessities after class. Wanna come?" I asked Sean.
Sean's face lit up instantly. "Yes! Let's go."
The school day passed in a blur of laboratory activities and heavy textbooks. I kept my phone off the entire time. It was easier to focus on science than to drown in Fran's messages.
By the time class ended, Michael, Sean, and I were walking toward the parking lot.
"I'm just going to third-wheel for now, alright?" Michael joked, nudging us.
"Shut up, Michael! You're really going to get it from me," Sean barked, though he was laughing.
"Barf! Barf!" Michael started running around like a dog, and soon the two of them were chasing each other through the lot. I couldn't stop laughing; for a moment, the heavy shadow over my life felt a little lighter.
"Rain, help me! This guy won't stop!" Sean pouted, scurrying behind me for cover.
I laughed and reached up, playfully pinching his cheek. "This dog is being cute—"
My hand was suddenly wrenched away. A large, familiar hand clamped around my wrist, stopping me mid-air.
It was Fran.
His eyes were burning with a dark, suffocating rage. He didn't speak; he just locked eyes with Sean, then glared down at me. He tried to pull me away, but Sean was faster, he caught my other wrist and jerked me back toward his side.
Fran released my hand out of pure shock, his face contorting into a mask of disbelief.
"Mind your own business," Fran hissed at Sean, reaching for me again.
"What the—Fran! Stop this already!" I snapped, pulling my hand away from both of them.
Fran froze. The shout seemed to echo in the open parking lot. He looked at me, his eyes wide, and for a split second, they looked... sad.
No, stop it, Rain, I told myself. He doesn't feel sad. He just wants control. He just hates me.
"Let's go home, Rain," he said, his voice surprisingly low, almost pleading.
"I'm not going home. Stop bothering me," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my knees.
I turned my back on him, pulling Sean toward the car. We scrambled inside, leaving Fran standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, his shadow long against the pavement as he watched us drive away.
"Wow. That was intense," Michael said, breaking the suffocating silence.
"Michael!" Sean warned, his eyes on the rearview mirror.
As the car pulled away, I looked at Fran through the glass. A part of me, the old, patient part of me, wanted to open the door and run back to him. But I knew better now. Staying would only mean drowning in his silence. I was finally choosing to breathe.