The Ru Effect

chapter forty five

I sat close to River in the dimly lit booth, tucked away in the far corner of the café. The low hum of chatter and the clinking of mugs filled the space around us, but all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of his leg pressed against mine.

It wasn't intentional-at least, it didn't feel like it-but the constant brush of his jeans against my skin sent shivers through me. My heart raced every time his knee shifted or his thigh moved closer.

We'd met up after a long day of classes, both tired, both in need of a break from the noise of the world outside.

It had become our little routine: finding some quiet corner, talking for hours like the rest of the world didn't exist. Tonight was no different-well, almost no different. There was something in the air between us, something thick and unspoken.

I tried to focus on the book we were talking about-some novel we both agreed was overrated.

But with River sitting so close, his deep voice rumbling beside me, it was hard to concentrate. His arm brushed mine as he turned the page, his leg shifted again, and my pulse quickened.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, taking in his profile. The soft lighting of the café caught the curve of his jaw.

He looked calm, so focused on what he was saying, but I wasn't sure if he noticed the tension hanging between us like I did.

It had been almost a month since River told me he was willing to try-to be the guy I needed, the one who wouldn't push me away if I was getting too close.

We'd confessed our feelings, laid it all bare, but we hadn't talked about us. Not since that moment. No label, no definition, just this... thing between us. And it was driving me crazy.

I laughed at something he said-something funny about his favorite book from secondary school-but underneath the laughter, there was this weight in my chest. Like something heavy, waiting to drop.

Because I knew what this was.

Or rather, I knew what it felt like. A ticking time bomb. I could feel it in every look River gave me, in the way his eyes softened when he caught me mid-laugh, in the way our conversations felt natural and easy until they didn't. Like tonight. This was too good. Too easy. And in the back of my mind, I feared it would come crashing down at any moment.

I wanted to ask him. . What were we, anyway? We'd shared so much already, opened up about our feelings, but we hadn't really talked about where this was going. It had been a month, and still... no label. Nothing concrete. Just this fragile thing hanging between us.

Did he even realize? Did he know that we were hovering in this strange in-between space? Did he feel it, too? The uncertainty, the fragility of it all?

His leg shifted again, and my breath hitched as his knee bumped against mine. I felt the heat in my cheeks, and I could barely focus on his words.

God, I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know where we stood. But at the same time, I was terrified. What if he didn't want what I did? What if he didn't feel the same urgency I did?

I couldn't let myself think too much about it. Not here, not now. So I smiled, nodded at whatever he was saying, and tried to push the fear to the back of my mind.

I didn’t know how to respond, my thoughts swirling chaotically in my head. The only words echoing in my mind screamed at me, River is depressed. River is not okay. He is not fine. He was never fine.

It felt like a cold slap to the face, the realization hitting me hard. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, to pry deeper into what he meant by living being overrated, but I bit my tongue.

I knew that if I asked, he would retreat further into himself, shutting me out like he had done so many times before.

So I took the safer route, desperate to keep this moment open between us. “Why do you think living is overrated?” I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with an intensity that made my heart ache. “Living comes with so many responsibilities,” he said slowly, as if the words were heavy on his tongue. “Expectations, obligations… so many things to juggle.”

As he spoke, I felt my heart begin to crush for him. He’s finally letting me in. This was a breakthrough—a glimpse into the thoughts that weighed him down.

His thumb brushed against the back of my hand again, a simple gesture, but it felt monumental.
It felt like he was anchoring himself through me.
  I wanted to reach out and hold him closer, to somehow ease the burden he carried.

“I feel like existing is the perfect way to live,” he continued, his voice distant. “ cause How can someone wake up every single day feeling like the sleep was never enough? Then work and work and work and give and give until there’s nothing left of them at the end of the day. Then they return to bed and wake up and work and work….”

His voice trailed off, and his gaze seemed to drift far beyond the café walls, as if he were staring into an abyss.

My heart sank at the raw honesty of his words. I didn’t know why tears began to brim in my eyes, but they did.

I felt helpless. I had never met someone who struggled with depression before, and my ignorance felt like a punch to the gut.

I had been so wrapped up in my own feelings, my own confusion, and here he was, breaking before me, and all I had ever thought about was why he wouldn’t talk to me,why he was so distant.

Before I could overthink it, I threw my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace in our sitted position.

I knew confronting him about his feelings might send him retreating back into his shell, but I couldn’t let go of him now. He needed me.

His hands immediately circled my waist, and I could feel him inhale deeply, like he was trying hard to breathe in my presence.

I patted his back slowly, grounding him, trying to communicate that I was here, that he wasn’t alone. “Sometimes living can be overwhelming, River,” I murmured softly into his ear. “But it has its perks, you know? You just.....you just see the world in black and white but one thing I know for sure is the world can break you, and it can still fix you.”

I didn’t know what I meant by that. Maybe it was just something I had heard somewhere, or maybe it was the first thought that came to me.

But surprisingly, as the words tumbled out, I felt a little relief in his body, like he was taking in what I said.

We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity, neither of us willing to pull away.

In that moment, it was as if the world outside had faded away, and all that mattered was the warmth between us, the shared breath of vulnerability.