Tommy
The wind carried the smell of rain one afternoon — sharp and clean, brushing against my skin as I walked up the road to Emma's house. The clouds were low and silvery, the kind that made the whole world feel hushed, like it was waiting.
I shifted the picnic basket in my hand and knocked on the door.
Emma's mum answered, her expression warm but a little weary. "She's in her room, love. Go on up."
I nodded. "Thanks, Mrs. Rivers."
Upstairs, I paused outside her door. I could hear faint movement — pages turning, the creak of her bed as she shifted. When I knocked softly, her voice came from the other side, small and distant.
"Yeah?"
"It's me."
A pause. Then, "Come in."
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing an oversized jumper that made her look smaller somehow. There were books and notebooks spread around her, a half-finished essay in front of her.
I smiled gently. "Hey."
"Hey," she said, though the word didn't carry much light.
I lifted the basket. "Thought maybe we could go for a walk. Just like old times. I packed a picnic — sandwiches, crisps, fruit, even those little cakes you like."
Her eyes flickered toward the window, toward the grey sky. "I don't know, Tommy. It looks like rain."
"Then we'll sit under the biggest tree," I said, coaxing, soft. "We used to love that. Remember? We said we'd always make time for a little picnic, no matter what."
She hesitated. Her hands twisted in her lap. For a heartbeat, I thought she'd say no again — and then she sighed. "All right. Just for a while."
That was all I needed.
We walked side by side through the park, the gravel path damp beneath our shoes. The trees were shedding the last of their leaves — gold and amber, spinning slowly through the air before landing at our feet.
She was quiet. Every now and then I caught her glancing toward the horizon, her brow furrowed as though she were somewhere far away.
When we reached the clearing, I spread the blanket beneath the trees and set out the food. She sat opposite me, knees drawn close to her chest, her gaze flicking between me and the ground.
For a long time, we didn't speak. Only the rustle of branches and the faint hum of distant traffic filled the air.
I looked at her — really looked. The soft curve of her jaw, the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the way her hands fidgeted with the corner of the blanket. Something inside me ached.
Finally, I reached across and took her hand. Her skin was cool, the fingers limp in mine until I rubbed gently against the silver ring that rested there.
"Do you remember," I said quietly, "the day I gave you this?"
Her eyes flickered up to mine, startled. "Of course I do."
"It was the first time I came to see you since you'd moved here," I said with a small smile. "I'd missed you so much, Emma. Then I saw you in the bakery, you looked so beautiful. I couldn't wait to give you this."
That pulled a ghost of a smile from her, quick and fragile.
"I meant what I said that day," I continued. "When I told you I'd love you forever. Nothing's changed, Emma. Not one thing."
She tried to look away, but I held her hand tighter. "I just… want you to talk to me. Please. Let me in. Don't shut me out."
For a moment, she didn't move. Then I saw her chin tremble, saw her eyes fill with tears she tried so hard to blink away.
When the first one slipped free, I moved without thinking, gathering her gently into my arms. She came willingly, her forehead pressed against my shoulder, her breath shaking against my chest.
Emma
His arms were warm and steady, his heartbeat thudding against my cheek. For a while, I couldn't speak. I just let the tears come — slow, quiet, unstoppable.
It was easier like this, when I didn't have to look at him. When I could speak into the fabric of his shirt instead of his eyes.
"I just…" I began, the words trembling. "I think you deserve better, Tommy."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to see my face. "What?"
"You deserve uncomplicated," I whispered. "You deserve carefree. You deserve someone who doesn't come with… all this." My hands trembled as I gestured vaguely, meaning me, my fears, the parts of me that still weren't whole. "All I've ever been is trouble. A burden."
"Emma —"
"No, please, let me finish." My voice cracked, but I kept going. "You're young. You should be out there having fun, not spending your life looking after someone who keeps breaking a little more each day."
The look on his face — that raw mix of disbelief and pain — nearly undid me.
He shook his head slowly, his hands framing my face as if he could hold me steady by will alone.
"Looking after you," he said softly, "is the only thing I want to do. The only thing that I want to do, the only thing that feels right."
"Tommy —"
"No." His voice was gentle, but fierce now.
"You're not a burden, Emma. You're my heart. My soul. Everything in the world that matters. When you smile, I feel like I can breathe again. When you're sad, it feels like the world stops turning. You're it for me. You always have been."
My breath hitched, my vision blurring. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why? It's the truth."
I couldn't answer. The wind moved softly through the trees, scattering a few leaves across the blanket. The smell of damp grass hung in the air. I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to steady myself.
And then, before I could stop it, another thought slipped out — the one that had been clawing at me for weeks.
"What about Lucy?"
He froze. "What?"
"Lucy," I said again, forcing myself to look at him now. "I see her, Tommy. She flirts with you every day." My throat burned. "And you let her."
His eyes widened, confusion flickering there. "Emma, she's just… she's just a girl in my class."
"She touches your arm, laughs at everything you say, brings you coffee —" My voice broke. "You must enjoy it. You let her do it."
"I didn't even realise —"
"You did," I whispered. "You just didn't want to admit it."
The silence between us stretched, tight and trembling.
Tommy
Her words landed like stones in my chest.
I stared at her, at the tears shining on her lashes, and I didn't know whether to reach for her or let her have the space she clearly needed.
"I swear," I said finally, voice low, "I didn't see it like that. I never have. You're the only one I see, Emma. You always have been. Everyone else, they're just people. You're the only one that's special, the only one I love."
She looked down, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. "It's hard to believe that when she's always around you, smiling, and I…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I can't even look at myself sometimes."
The ache in her voice broke something in me.
I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her tighter. "Listen to me." My voice shook. "There's never been anyone else. Not before you, not after. Lucy's just another kid in my class — that's all she'll ever be."
Her shoulders trembled. "But I'm broken, Tommy."
I shook my head fiercely. "You're not broken. You're brave. You're still here, still fighting, still smiling, even when it hurts. You think that's weakness? That's the strongest thing I've ever seen."
She blinked up at me, eyes full of disbelief and I brushed my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear.
"I don't care if the world calls it complicated," I whispered. "You're mine, and I'm yours, Emma Rivers. And I'll spend my whole life with you and proving you don't have to carry anything alone, ever again."
Her breath hitched — a small, aching sound — and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against mine.
Emma
The world blurred. I could smell the faint scent of grass and his aftershave, feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, hear the low thrum of his breath.
Something in me cracked open; not the painful kind, but the kind that lets the light in.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"I know," he said. "But I'm not going anywhere."
And I believed him.
He kissed me then — slow, gentle, full of everything we hadn't been able to say for weeks. It wasn't the urgent kind of kiss that tried to erase sadness, but the steady kind that promised it wouldn't always hurt this much.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. The air between us trembled, full of salt and warmth and all the words we didn't need.
"I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too," I whispered. "I just… don't always know how to be okay."
"That's all right," he said. "We'll figure it out together."
The clouds finally broke above us, soft rain beginning to fall through the branches. We stayed where we were, the blanket beneath us, the world narrowing to the sound of rain and heartbeat and breath.
For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel like I was sinking.
His hand was in mine, his thumb tracing slow circles over the promise ring.
And I believed him; that maybe love really could hold all my broken pieces together.