Chapter 31-Tears on the path

Noah barely registered how he purchased the gifts, his thoughts drifting far from the present. Around him, the city pulsed with life, yet it all felt distant. Footsteps hurried over the pavement as people rushed past, the shuffle of shoes scraping against the stone. Their voices blended into a blur of conversation and the low rumble of passing engines, only to be swallowed quickly by the howling wind.

The cold had grown intense, slipping through gaps in clothing and biting at exposed skin. People tugged their coats closer, arms wrapped tightly around themselves in a feeble attempt to keep warm. Yet, none of it seemed to reach Noah. The voices around him rose and fell, weaving through the rush of the wind, but they passed him by like a scene unfolding behind glass.

The weather worsened with each passing minute, dark clouds pressing lower over the city, and Noah found himself at a loss. He had arrived with Theodore, but now, stranded on the sidewalk, he struggled to find a vehicle.

A few carriages roamed the street, but each one was already booked with passengers. As he walked down the sidewalk alone, passing strangers cast lingering glances his way, their eyes skimming over him like he was a misplaced painting in a weathered gallery. He looked too polished and pristine, as if he had stepped into the wrong world, his presence too stark against the worn and weathered backdrop of the city.

Noah kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but every so often, his eyes darted to the sides, scanning his surroundings in quick, unobtrusive glances. He moved with careful restraint, not wanting to stand out, yet unable to ignore the need to know where he was.

A quiet unease settled in his chest. Maybe he had been too hasty. Would it have been better to stay with them, even if it meant swallowing his discomfort? At least then, he wouldn't be wandering the streets alone, wandering aimlessly in the cold.

The weight of countless eyes bore down on him, making his every step feel heavier than the last. His legs ached from the relentless walk, a dull throb spreading through his calves.

Overhead, the clouds grumbled like a restless beast, their warning low and guttural. His eyes stung, moisture gathering at the edges as his vision blurred, though whether from the biting wind or something else, he couldn't tell.

A single raindrop landed on his cheek, cool against his skin, followed by another and then another. Within seconds, the heavens opened, releasing a downpour that consumed everything in its path. The rain struck the ground in a rhythmic fury, turning the streets into a blurred watercolor of gray and silver.

People scattered like fallen leaves in the wind, their hurried footsteps splashing through puddles as they scrambled for shelter. Fragments of conversations and laughter wove together with startled gasps, only to be swallowed by the relentless drumming of the downpour. Some huddled beneath awnings, pressing themselves into whatever corner of dryness they could find, while others disappeared into the distance, vanishing into the storm's embrace.

But amidst the chaos, one figure remained still.

Rain cascaded down his face, slipping over his chin like silent tears only the sky dared to shed on his behalf. Droplets clung to his lashes, misting his vision in a way that felt almost merciful, streaming down his cheeks so seamlessly that it was impossible to tell whether it was grief disguised as rain or rain disguised as grief. He stood unmoved, his vacant stare lost in the storm.

Noah wiped his face with his sleeve, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his sight as he forced himself back to the present. The rain was unceasing, hammering down on him with unyielding force. His clothes, heavy with moisture, clung to his skin in a damp, suffocating embrace.

Rainy days were always the worst. They dredged up memories he wished would stay buried. Stormy weather meant being trapped inside, and that's when Uncle Gregor and his cousins had nowhere else to go, their boredom inevitably turning to him. There was no escape from their demands, no excuse that could spare him from being ordered around like a servant. Their words were vile, laced with venom that sank deep, and when that no longer satisfied them, their hands followed, leaving behind bruises that never seemed to fade.

Even now, as the storm raged around him, those memories clung to him like the dampness in his clothes, impossible to shake and seeping deep into his bones.

Those stifling feelings returned with a vengeance, wrapping around his throat like invisible hands. The cold rains did nothing to douse the fire burning in his lungs, it only made everything worse. The memories he had desperately tried to bury resurfaced one after another, leaving no space to breathe.

His chest heaved, rising and falling in shallow bursts, but no matter how hard he tried to pull in air, it felt like he was drowning in something far heavier than rain. His fingers curled into the damp fabric of his sleeves, trembling as cold sweat mixed with the downpour. The world tilted, his vision swam, and for a moment, it felt as if he were trapped in an endless nightmare.

Soon, his body could no longer hold up, and he crashed onto the ground with a dull thud, weakness seeping into his limbs. He tried desperately to regain control of himself, but it felt like an impossible task, as if the very earth beneath him had turned against him.

Before he could be completely swallowed by the dark tide of his thoughts, a faint voice wove through the rain, it sounded distorted and barely distinguishable from the ceaseless patter of water against the pavement.

"You… h km…"

The words struggled to reach him, yet something about them tugged at his senses. He might have dismissed it as a trick of his exhausted mind, but then—

"Can you hear me?"

This time, the voice was clearer, slipping through the veil of sound like a thread of light piercing the fog. It was neither near nor far, as if it existed between the spaces of reality itself, pressing against the edges of his awareness.

Slowly, as though surfacing from a dream, he blinked through the droplets clinging to his lashes and lifted his head toward the source of the voice.

A black car he was all too familiar with sat idly by, its passenger door swung wide open, revealing a figure lounging comfortably inside.

"Planning to cut class for the next few days?" Lucien's voice cut through the rain as he leaned forward slightly. "Try not to make a habit of it."

His vision trailed downward, taking in the sight of the boy sitting drenched on the cold stone pavement, the weight of passing stares pressing in from all directions.

"Get in before you embarrass yourself any further," he added, leaning back into his seat, already returning his attention to the open book resting in his lap.

Noah pressed his palms against the pavement, forcing himself to rise, but his limbs felt like dead weight. His soaked clothes clung to his skin, a second layer of heaviness that only made it harder to move.

He barely managed to lift himself halfway before his foot slid against the slippery ground, sending him stumbling forward. His breath hitched as he barely caught himself on his hands, his fingers scraping against the rough stone.

A shuddering breath left his lips, frustration prickling beneath his skin. His shoulders tensed as he tried again, forcing strength into his weary limbs, but the moment he straightened his legs, the treacherous ground betrayed him once more. His feet slid out from under him, and this time, the fall was even harder.

A sharp gasp left him as his hands scraped against the ground once more, his knee throbbing with fresh pain. When he glanced down, streaks of red were already washing away in the rain. He sat there motionless, his frustration boiling beneath the surface.

Cold air drifted into the car, carrying the scent of rain as stray droplets splattered onto the seats. Minutes stretched, yet not even the faintest shadow of the boy appeared inside.

Lucien wouldn't have thought much of it if not for the unusual sound that kept pulling his attention from his book. It was the unmistakable sound of someone weeping.

Noah sat hunched over, his hands pressed desperately against his face as though trying to silence the sobs forcing their way out. His shoulders shook with each breath, his body trembling from more than just the cold. It was a quiet kind of grief, the kind that clawed at the throat, that came from a place too deep to be soothed.

Lucien watched him for a long moment before exhaling, his voice flat, yet carrying a weight of finality.

"Get in. Crying won't solve your problem."

Noah's body jerked slightly, as if startled, but he remained unmoved.

"Unn… hic…hnnn… I… I—can't," he gasped, his words broken between shaky breaths.

Lucien leaned back, fingers idly flipping a page in his book.

"Yes, you can."

Noah bit down on his trembling lip, his fists clenching so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of resentment toward Lucien.

Why is he making it seem like I cry every time something doesn't go my way?

That was far from the truth, and it wasn't fair. The weight of everything he had buried for so long was finally breaking free, spilling over like a dam on the verge of collapse.

Lucien lifted his eyes from the book, his gaze settling on the boy's messy, tear-streaked face, his lips upturned in a sulky pout. It was a sight Lucien never thought he'd see.

"Pfft—"

A quiet laugh escaped him, unbidden.

Noah stiffened, his body burned from the pressure rising inside him, even as the cold rain continued to pour down, soaking him to the bone. The world around him felt distant, his own breathing barely registering past the tightness in his throat.

He stayed slumped, rainwater trickling down his face like an endless stream of unacknowledged grief.

"I'll give you a minute to get in," Lucien said, his voice flat as he flipped another page. "After that, I'm leaving you here."