It rained that night — the kind of slow, endless drizzle that made everything feel softer, quieter, heavier.
Lila sat by her window, phone resting on her knee, eyes unfocused. She hadn't heard from River since lunch. Not a text. Not a call.
He wasn't the type to ghost her. Especially not now.
Her fingers hovered over his name, debating whether to message. But just as she started to type, the lights flickered.
Then the knock came.
She rushed to the front door and pulled it open, heart skipping.
River stood there, soaked through. Hoodie clinging to him, hair dripping into his eyes.
"River—what happened?"
He didn't speak. Just stepped forward and pulled her into him like she was the only warmth left in the world. She could feel it — something had cracked.
"I didn't know where else to go," he murmured into her hair.
"You're always safe here," she whispered back.
---
They sat on her bedroom floor, wrapped in a blanket, sipping tea in silence. Lila watched him, his profile dimly lit by the glow of her fairy lights.
He looked... hollow.
"Talk to me," she said gently.
He exhaled slowly, setting the mug down with shaking hands.
"My uncle found my poetry notebook."
Her breath caught.
"He read it out loud. Laughed at it. Called it weak. Called me weak." River's jaw clenched. "Said no girl would ever love someone who writes 'girly feelings in a diary.' Then he tore it up."
Lila reached out, her fingers slipping into his. "That notebook was your heart."
He nodded. "And he ripped it apart like it was trash."
She leaned closer. "You're not trash, River. You're brave for feeling anything at all in a world that tells you to shut down."
He looked at her, really looked, eyes shining. "I hate that he got inside my head. I didn't come earlier because I didn't want you to see me like this."
"Broken?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Small."
Her heart ached for him — not just because he was hurt, but because he still thought he had to be something stronger than he already was.
"You don't have to be big to be enough for me," she whispered. "You just have to be you."
River leaned in then, slowly. Their lips met in a kiss that tasted like rain and healing.
No heat. No hunger.
Just home.
---
Later, wrapped in each other under the covers, River traced her spine with soft fingers.
"You ever think this will end?" he asked quietly.
Lila blinked. "What?"
"Us. This. I keep waiting for the world to break it."
She turned toward him, eyes serious.
"I think the world will try. But I'm not going anywhere."
River didn't reply. Just held her tighter.
"I wish I could promise I won't mess this up," he murmured.
"You don't have to promise that," she said. "Just promise you'll tell me when the storm's coming, so I can stand in it with you."
---
They fell asleep like that — skin to skin, heart to heart.
And for the first time in days, River slept through the night.
Because love didn't fix the broken.
But it held them together.
Even in the rain.