You've Become the Rain

He was waiting outside school the next day.

The end-of-school bell had just sounded and swarms of teenagers were flocking down the hallways, chattering loudly as they exited into the car park. I was among them, desperately trying to stop myself from being pushed around and trying my hardest to get out of there as soon as possible.

I didn’t notice him at first. My mind was consumed with endless thoughts, and that left me ignorant of the world around me. It was only when I noticed the group of girls that had stopped in front of me, all of who were pointedly looking to the left of me, did I allow my eyes to drift over to where he stood.

He was the same as he had been the day before, standing in the graveyard. A leather jacket clung to his body and a cigarette hung out of his mouth, puffs of musky smoke leaving his lips as he breathed. He was leaning against a motorbike, one which seemed to be covered in dust and dirt, the buckle of a black helmet hanging from the end of his spare fingertips. And those dark eyes, the ones that had haunted me the day before were staring right at me, almost as if he had been waiting for me to appear. And once again, I couldn’t look away.

I was confused as to why he was here. As of two days ago I’d had no idea who he was, and suddenly he was everywhere I went. What could he possibly want that would cause him to be waiting in the car park outside a school? Paranoia ran through my mind, my body tensing slightly as I held his gaze. Was he following me?

The thought was stupid and I quickly brushed it off, coming to the conclusion that he must have a younger sibling that went to the school. I pulled my eyes away from his, an uncomfortable shiver rippling through my body. Pointedly ignoring his probing eyes, I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and continued my walk home.

I knew that he was watching me. The heat of his gaze tore through me and another shiver ran down my spine, and I allowed errant strands of my hair to cover my eyes so that I wouldn’t look up. I clenched my hands in fists by my side, pointedly looking towards the ground as I became closer to where he was.

I was almost past him when he spoke. His voice was rough from cigarettes, and he spoke in a low voice that was only for me. “You’re miserable,” he concluded lowly, causing me to stop in my tracks.

For a second I wondered if he was talking to me. I could feel his eyes on me and it was making my heart beat out of control, my palms becoming sweaty as I stood there. I was tempted to walk away when I heard his voice again, calling out to me in a definite tone. “Why do you hide it?”

At this I spun around, annoyance masking my features. His eyes met mine, once again seeming like they could see into my soul. “You don’t know me,” I said roughly, my voice coming out softer than I’d planned.

At this his lips curled up into a deadly smile and he took a puff of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t know yourself, so how is that fair?” he said, causing my eyes to widen slightly as I looked at him. “You walk around like you’re happy, but you’re goddamn miserable.”

In that minute I realized that this boy, who I had never met before, knew me better than everyone in my school. Just by looking at me.

“How do you know?” I asked softly, my heart beating erratically as stared into his eyes. I wanted to walk away, to hang my head and walk away but I couldn’t. Why could he see me when everyone else couldn’t?

“Your eyes,” he said simply, watching me carefully as if he was waiting for me to run.

I forced my eyes away as if it would somehow stop him from seeing through me, and doubt began to run through my mind. I had always thought that I was strong and that I could hide things so that no one could see, but his words were making me unsure of my own strength and ability to hide. Could they all see me? Could they see the hatred that eclipsed my body?

“Why are you here? You don’t belong here,” I said defensively, for some reason wanting to hurt him back. I was barely aware of the fact that people were staring at us, probably wondering why a girl like me, who had never done anything defiant in her life, was standing with a guy like him. And for some reason, I wanted to show them.

His face didn’t move at all, his eyes seeking out mine, and suddenly I felt like I could see through him too. And he was empty. There was nothing for me to find. “You don’t belong here either,” he said roughly, his chocolate eyes never leaving mine. “These people don’t know you. You’re alone here, just like me.”

His words hurt me. Because everything he said, every gruff sentence that left his mouth was truer than any words others had ever spoken. It didn’t matter that he had ignored my question, because I was so overcome with doubt and negligence that it seemed as though staring at him blankly was all I could do. In front of him I was as empty as he seemed to be, because he saw through what I pretended to be. And I was starting to learn that everything I was wasn’t real.

“Alice?” I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder, and with the warmth that filled me I knew that it was Jeremy. I suddenly knew that he was wrong, and that he didn’t see through me. Because I wasn’t completely alone.

The man’s eyes hardened slightly as he lazily gazed at my friend, his eyes darkening significantly but still remaining cold and emotionless. His cigarette lay untouched in his hand, as forgotten as my mask and the shields I had to put up. My walls were down lower than they’d ever been, and Jeremy seemed to notice this as his arms tightened around me. “Is he bothering you, Al?” he asked roughly, his eyes narrowing into a glare, somewhat weary as he looked at the boy in front of me. His eyes crinkled with disdain as they examined his stance, his grip around my shoulder becoming almost painful.

I stayed silent for a moment; just watching him. Trying to figure him out. But he was stronger than me; his walls were up and there was no way I could get through. “No,” I murmured finally, and his mouth seemed to twitch as he watched me.

“I was wrong,” he said blankly, twirling his forgotten cigarette in his fingers. “Looks like someone does care.” Jeremy frowned in confusion but I just stared, unable to drag my eyes away from the heat of his gaze. “But it doesn’t look like he knows what you really want,” he added, a small, enigmatic grin forming on his lips as his eyes traced over my figure.

Jeremy froze; hardening. “And what does she really want?” he said gruffly, pulling me further away from the boy that stood in front of me, as if to protect me.

It was silent; the wind caressing my bare skin as I stood there, the tenseness of the air hanging like a wall around us. But he spoke, finally, his words absolutely definite but at the same time, traced with amusement. “She wants to live.”

And in that second I realized that he knew me better than I knew myself. All because he looked at me and he saw. Because when you really, truly looked at someone, you knew them better than they knew themselves. And I… I seemed to be blind.

The idea of him knowing me so well scared me more than anything, because I was starting to realize that I didn’t know myself at all. I knew who I wanted be. I knew who I was scared to be, and I knew who others wanted me to be. But I couldn’t be any of them, for some reason that was beyond me.

Jeremy was as silent as me, and after a minute he began to pull me away. “Let’s just go, Alice,” he whispered to me, tugging me gently. “He’s not worth your time. You don’t need to talk to him.”

But that wasn’t fair, because looking into his dark eyes I knew that there was more. There was more than what he showed; a lot more, and it intrigued me.

I felt Jeremy stiffen, and I slowly began to realize how close to me he was. He had stepped forward, and now the smell of his cigarette was filling my nostrils, clouding over my mind as I stood there. My stomach clenched at his proximity, and at the knowledge that if I reached out, I could touch him. I could feel him. It had almost been as if he wasn’t there, but now he was. He was reality. Another person in my empty world.

I could feel his eyes on me, as well as the eyes of those around me. I could feel everyone watching me, waiting, but all I could feel was his gaze. All I could taste was his pain, the fields of pain and coldness that he was emitting to me simply by being so close. And I wondered who else could feel it, or if anyone could see it like I could. I wondered if just by looking, I knew him as well as he knew me.

I felt his warm hand touch mine, and I stiffened under his touch. His long, calloused fingers separated my own, trailing his pointer down the middle of my palm. His eyes never left my face, his body so close that I could hear him breathing and feel his warmth. I could smell the musky scent of cigarettes and something else, something that made my mind foggy and my mouth dry.

His hand clenched around mine gently, his warm skin touching my own. And as he moved he continued to watch me, almost as if he was waiting for me to pull away, or as if he was waiting to see who I really was. I didn’t want to look up. I was scared to look up, because he terrified me and I didn’t even know who he was. I knew nothing about him besides the fact that he smoked and rode a motorbike, and the fact that he was empty, just like me.

He didn’t talk. His hands didn’t move over my arm; they stayed interlocked in my fingers. I could feel my breathing becoming staggered as nerves flocked through my body, and though part of me was disgusted and terrified part of me wanted to stay where I was.

Eventually he pulled away, stepping backwards as his fingers left mine. I shivered in the cold, pulling my hand to my side and clenching it in my other hand. Jeremy was frozen beside me, his arm stiff around my shoulder. “Let’s just go,” he murmured finally, his eyes weary and his stance protective as he leaned in to whisper in my ear.

Nodding, I sent the boy one last glance before allowing my friend to pull me away, my legs moving of their own accord. “See you later, Scarlet,” he called out behind me and I froze, turning around slightly so that my eyes met his.

“It’s Alice,” I said loudly, feeling Jeremy tug me forwards as I continued to stare.

A smirk formed on his lips as he dropped his cigarette to the floor, stamping on it and putting it out with his eyes never leaving mine. “I know.”

It was only after he left that I realized that I didn’t know his name.

Frowning slightly, I forced myself to turn away, stopping my mind from wandering again. I allowed Jeremy to pull me into his side, his fingers caressing my shoulder as we began to walk away. And it was then that I noticed, listening to the sound of his motorbike as he rode away, that there was something in my hand. Uncurling my fingers, I frowned slightly when I saw a piece of paper.

Kennedy,
0415 837 829.

Kennedy. I tried the name on my lips, my green eyes never leaving the paper, almost willing for it to open up and reveal more to me than just a name. “Throw that out,” I heard Jeremy say beside me, a frown tugging on his lips as he read the paper. “I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

Nodding slightly, I scrunched the paper into a little ball, trying to forget the face that was playing in my mind. But instead of dropping it my fingers hesitated, curling around the paper ball and playing with it in my fingers.

With my heart on hold, I placed it in my pocket, making sure Jeremy didn’t see me doing so.

I wouldn’t call him, but I wouldn’t forget.