Lanterns in the Rain

Chapter Nine: The Weight of Quiet Moments

The rest of the school day passed in a blur for Rae. She went through the motions-answering questions in class, staring out the window during breaks, and avoiding unnecessary conversations. But Henry's words stayed with her, weaving themselves into every quiet moment.

"You don't have to be fine all the time."*

It was the kind of thing no one had ever said to her before. Everyone assumed Rae was fine because she made it that way. Her walls were sturdy, her quietness impenetrable. No one questioned it. Until now.

By the time the final bell rang, Rae's head felt heavy with thoughts she didn't want to have. She slipped out of the classroom before anyone could stop her and made her way to the library.

The rain had started up again, soft and steady, and she could hear it tapping against the tall windows as she stepped inside. She wasn't surprised to find Henry there, sitting at their usual table with his bag open and a book in front of him.

He looked up as she approached, his expression brightening when he saw her. "Hey," he said, his voice warm.

Rae hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "Hi."

Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on her unease. "You okay?"

She sighed, dropping her bag onto the chair and sitting down across from him. "Why do you always ask that?"

"Because I care?" he offered with a lopsided grin.

Rae shook her head, but the edge of her lips twitched in a faint smile. "You're exhausting."

"And yet, you're still here," he pointed out, leaning forward slightly.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the rain filling the space between them. Rae watched the way the light from the windows reflected in Henry's brown eyes, the way his fingers absently drummed against the table as though he was keeping time with the rain.

Finally, she broke the quiet. "I thought about what you said."

Henry stilled, his eyes locking on hers. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her gaze dropping to the table. "I don't know how to do it. Let people in, I mean."

"You don't have to know," he said gently. "It's not about getting it perfect. It's just... trying."

Rae swallowed hard, her chest tight. "It's not easy for me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It never has been."

"I know," Henry said, his tone soft but steady. "But you've already started, Rae. Just by letting me sit here."

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching his face for any sign of judgment or pity. But there was none. Just patience and quiet understanding.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Henry smiled, the kind of smile that made her chest ache. "Because I see you. And I think you're worth knowing."

Rae's throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. She'd spent so long convincing herself that being alone was better, safer. But sitting here, with Henry looking at her like she mattered, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd been wrong.

"I don't know if I can be the person you think I am," she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Henry reached across the table, his hand stopping just short of hers. "You don't have to be anyone but yourself."

The simplicity of his words struck her harder than she expected. She stared at his hand, so close to hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't pull away.

The rain outside grew heavier, the sound filling the quiet between them. Rae didn't know what the future would look like, or if she was even ready to try letting someone in.

But as she sat there with Henry, feeling the warmth of his presence and the weight of his words, she realized something.

Maybe she didn't have to figure it all out right now.

Maybe it was enough just to start.