Ocean hadn't answered Skyler. Not then, not the day after, and not in the weeks that followed. The cold walls he'd rebuilt around himself had stayed firm, and Ocean found refuge in ignoring him. If he could avoid Skyler, if he could push him away, then maybe the emotions inside him would quiet, the storm would pass.
But the storm had only just begun.
The rainy season arrived without warning, the once-clear skies replaced by dark clouds that seemed to stretch endlessly across the horizon. The air was thick with humidity, and the rain fell in relentless sheets. It had been pouring for days, and Ocean found himself walking through the downpour on his way to school, soaked to the bone.
He didn't bother with an umbrella. He didn't care. The rain matched the heaviness inside him, the chill sinking deep into his skin, just as the ache in his chest refused to fade. His hair clung to his forehead, droplets trailing down his neck and soaking his clothes, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.
His steps were slow as he made his way into the school building, water dripping from his clothes onto the polished floors. The students around him glanced his way, some whispering quietly about his appearance, but he paid them no attention. He was used to being the one on the outside, unnoticed. And he preferred it that way.
But as he walked into the lecture hall, his heart clenched involuntarily. The last thing he wanted was to see Skyler. To feel his presence again, to have the weight of his return press down on him like a suffocating fog.
Ocean scanned the room, and there, sitting two rows behind him, was Skyler.
Everyone had been shocked when they found out Skyler was back. The whispers had returned, louder than before. But this time, Ocean didn't care. He didn't care about the rumors, the curious glances, the speculation about where Skyler had been. All that mattered was the fact that Skyler had come back, and the peace Ocean had tried to find in his absence had been shattered.
Without a word, Ocean sat down in his usual seat, water still dripping from his clothes. He didn't look back at Skyler, didn't acknowledge him, didn't even glance his way. But he could feel it—the weight of Skyler's gaze on him. It was like a warmth that he couldn't shake, no matter how cold the rain had made him feel.
The lecture hall filled up quickly, students settling into their seats as the professor began to speak. Ocean's mind wandered, barely registering the words. His clothes clung to his skin, the cold seeping into his bones, but he ignored the discomfort. It was better than the ache in his chest.
After class ended, Ocean was the first to stand, his body aching from the cold as he made his way out of the hall. He didn't want to linger, didn't want to give Skyler the chance to approach him. He had successfully ignored him for weeks, and he intended to keep it that way.
But as he reached the exit, he heard Skyler's voice behind him, soft but insistent. "Ocean, wait."
Ocean froze, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag, his jaw clenched. Not now. Not today. He couldn't do this again—couldn't face Skyler, couldn't deal with the questions or the apologies or whatever it was that Skyler had to say.
"Ocean," Skyler called again, his voice closer now, more urgent. "You need to change your clothes. You'll get sick."
Ocean turned, his expression hard, cold. His clothes were still soaked, and the chill was already beginning to settle in his limbs, but he wouldn't give Skyler the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
"Why do you care?" Ocean's voice was sharp, biting, and it cut through the air between them. "You don't get to care. Not anymore."
Skyler's eyes softened, but there was a determination in them that Ocean had grown to both admire and fear. "I do care, Ocean. I always have. And you're going to get sick if you keep this up."
"I don't need you to tell me what to do." Ocean's voice was icy, matching the cold that had seeped into his bones. "Go worry about someone else."
Skyler stepped closer, his gaze steady despite the harshness of Ocean's words. "I'm not going to just stand by and let you destroy yourself."
Ocean's chest tightened at those words—words that hit too close to the truth. Destroy himself? Maybe that's what he had been doing. Maybe he had been letting the hurt, the anger, consume him. But that didn't mean Skyler had the right to swoop in and play savior. Not after everything.
He turned away, walking briskly toward the exit, the rain still pouring outside. "I'm fine," Ocean muttered, more to himself than to Skyler.
"Ocean—"
But Ocean didn't wait for him to finish. He pushed through the doors and out into the rain, letting the cold wash over him once again. The sound of Skyler's footsteps behind him was drowned out by the pounding rain, and soon, Ocean was walking alone.
That night, as Ocean lay in bed, his body ached. The cold had settled deep into his muscles, and a dull throb pulsed at his temples. He had refused to change out of his wet clothes after leaving school, too stubborn to admit that Skyler had been right.
But now, as he curled up beneath the covers, his skin burning with fever, Ocean realized he had only been hurting himself.
The headache was relentless, pounding in his skull, and the ache in his body made it impossible to get comfortable. Ocean shifted restlessly, his thoughts clouded with the remnants of the day. Skyler's words echoed in his mind, soft but insistent: I do care, Ocean. I always have.
But caring wasn't enough. Caring didn't make up for the hurt, for the silence, for the way Skyler had left without a word.
Ocean squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as if it could block out the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He was angry—angry at Skyler for coming back, for pretending that things could be fixed with a few words. But he was also angry at himself.
Angry that he still cared.
The next morning, Ocean woke to a pounding headache and a throat that felt like sandpaper. His body ached even worse than the night before, every muscle sore from the cold. He groaned, rolling onto his back as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind heavy with exhaustion.
He had known this would happen. He had known that refusing to change out of his wet clothes would only make things worse. But he had done it anyway, out of sheer stubbornness—out of a need to prove that he didn't need Skyler, that he could take care of himself.
But now, lying in bed, his body wracked with fever, Ocean realized he had only made things harder for himself.
He had pushed Skyler away again, and for what? To prove a point? To show that he didn't care?
But the truth was, he did care. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, no matter how cold he made his words, he couldn't erase the part of him that still cared about Skyler. The part of him that had missed him, that had wanted answers, that had wanted to believe that Skyler wouldn't leave again.
But trust was fragile, and Ocean wasn't sure if he had the strength to build it again.
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the rain still falling steadily outside, Ocean couldn't help but wonder: Was it too late?
Had he already destroyed whatever fragile connection he had once had with Skyler? Had he let the anger and hurt drive him too far away?
Ocean didn't know the answers. All he knew was that his heart still ached with the weight of Skyler's absence, and now, with Skyler back in his life, he wasn't sure what to do with the emotions swirling inside him.
The only thing Ocean was certain of was that he wasn't ready to forgive—not yet.
TBC. 🩵
