Rain had never done this before, the breakup thing. His past relationships had ended cleanly, casually, without emotional fallout. Ivy had been the closest thing to heartbreak, and even that had been… simple. Mutual. Predictable.
But this?
This felt like losing a limb.
Before Jay could answer, Wren’s voice cut through the air.
“Jay, you’re up!”
She jogged toward them, her trainers kicking up dust, her braid swinging sharply behind her. The moment her eyes landed on Rain sitting beside Jay, her expression hardened; suspicion flaring bright and immediate. Her shoulders squared, her jaw tightened, and she looked ready to launch herself between them if necessary.
Rain didn’t give Jay the chance to speak.
“No,” Rain said, tone firm, unwavering. “He’s done for today. Mark him down as last place.”
He didn’t even look at Wren.
Didn’t acknowledge the glare she shot him; sharp, probing, accusatory.
He simply shut the door on any argument before it could begin.
“What?! No, I’m running. I just needed a minute.” Jay’s voice cracked with stubbornness and desperation. He pushed himself upright, breath hitching, trying to prove he wasn’t as fragile as he felt.
Rain turned to him, expression unyielding.
“No, you’re not,” he said, voice low but absolute. “You’re only able to speak right now because I’ve taken away your pain. The second I stop; you’ll be suffering again.”
To prove it, Rain lifted his hand from Jay’s shoulder.
The effect was instant.
Jay gasped; a sharp, strangled sound and folded inward, clutching his side as the pain slammed back into him. His face drained of colour, sweat beading along his brow.
Rain’s chest tightened with sympathy. He immediately pressed his palm back onto Jay’s shoulder, absorbing the pain again. Jay’s breath steadied, his body loosening as the agony bled out of him.
“See?” Rain murmured, voice gentler now. “If you push yourself too far, you won’t be able to compete. And if that’s the case, we might as well drop out now to save ourselves the disappointment.”
The truth of it settled heavily between them.
Jay’s shoulders sagged, resignation pulling at the corners of his mouth.
At that moment, Wren strode up with purpose, her hands planted firmly on her hips, chin lifted, eyes blazing with protective fury. She looked ready to fight someone. Anyone. Rain included.
Rain blinked, genuinely confused.
Why was she suddenly acting like Jay’s personal guard dog?
“What is going on?” she demanded, her stance wide, her glare sharp enough to cut stone.
Rain met her stare evenly, refusing to be intimidated.
“What is it you’re afraid of happening, Wren?”
Jay panicked.
“Rain’s just taking away my pain,” he blurted, shifting instinctively and immediately regretting it. Rain inhaled sharply as Jay’s pain spiked, hot and jagged, slicing through him like a blade.
“Oh gods, sorry,” Jay whispered, freezing in place, terrified of causing more pain to either of them.