She was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, yet she desperately wished this path would last forever. She didn't want a destination; she didn't want dawn; she didn't want the rain to stop. Most of all, she didn't want Lucas Powell to leave her.

"It's pouring outside, no basketball tonight. How about a round of Werewolf?"

Voices drifted in from the hallway as several people pushed open the door and entered the living room. Eden Anderson watched as Lucas walked in behind the group, his gray T-shirt damp from the storm. Strands of his dark hair clung to his forehead, shimmering with tiny droplets of rain.

He seemed even paler than she remembered from their childhood. But suddenly, Eden felt a sharp, hollow ache—the dimming light in his eyes made his pallor seem fragile, almost breakable.

While she was lost in thought, a card was shoved into her hand.

Once everyone had circled the coffee table, Easton Ward declared himself the "narrator," and the game started abruptly.

"Night has fallen! Close your eyes! Everyone, close them!" Easton urged.

Eden glanced at her card—the Werewolf—and gently closed her eyes. Lucas’s image remained burned into her mind, mingling with Molly Lee’s earlier words, making her chest tighten with agonizing persistence.

"Werewolves, open your eyes. Werewolves, wake up!" Easton continued.

Eden slowly opened her eyes, immediately locking gazes with Lucas, who had also opened his. A lump formed in her throat; the corners of her eyes grew damp.

Molly had said he was moving to London.

Such a long, unreachable distance.

But Molly had also said that with a fresh start, he would be much happier.

Suddenly, a metallic, copper taste flooded her mouth. Her nose felt wet. She raised a hand to touch it and saw blood.

"Werewolves, who will you kill tonight..."

Lucas froze. He reached for the tissue box on the table and hurriedly shoved a handful of tissues at her.

Eden took them, covering her nose and whispering a breathless "Thanks," before bolting toward the sink on the far side of the living room. The others opened their eyes and scrambled to their feet, calling out in concern.

"Are you okay, Eden?"

"Are you alright, Eden? Why are you having a nosebleed all of a sudden?"

Eden turned on the faucet, washing her face while she looked back to reassure them. "It's nothing. Just a bit of heat stroke from the season change. Keep playing, I'll be back in a second!"

The others settled back down, but Lucas walked over to her.

"Did you need something?" Eden asked, keeping her head low as she pumped soap into her hands.

Lucas hesitated, his feet dragging. "I'm transferring schools. I'm leaving for London. Bryce asked me for some reference books a while ago—I'll leave them with you later, could you pass them along to him?"

"Sure," Eden said, scrubbing her hands until they turned red, her voice trembling.

"I should go then." Lucas turned to leave.

"Wait..." Eden suddenly spun around, swallowing her sobs. "When are you leaving? Bryce said he wanted to play basketball with you over summer break..."

"Tomorrow," he said, looking back. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

He locked eyes with her and added, "Once I leave this time, I'm never coming back."

"I see. Safe travels," Eden said, her voice sounding like it was filled with jagged glass. She turned away quickly, tilting her head back to hold back the tears, but a single drop escaped, melting into the white soap foam on her hands.

The living room speakers were playing a melancholic ballad.

"Should have known it was a bubble, popping at a touch. Just like a broken heart, unable to endure the torture."

"Love is just a bubble; blame me for not seeing through it, which is why I’m in such pain."

She thought she had already seen through love.

But why did it still hurt so much?

Eden didn't return to the game. She retreated to the bedroom and climbed into bed early. Outside, thunder rumbled, and the heavy rain drummed against the windowpane. She tossed and turned, her body exhausted, yet sleep refused to come.

Her insomnia was back, and she had forgotten her medication.

Memories flickered in her mind like a montage. She realized then that she remembered every single word Lucas had ever said to her, down to the color and style of his shirts.

But what did that mean? Did it mean she was in love with him?

And what did her love even matter?

It was just love. Nothing more.

Her love couldn't make him stay, and it certainly couldn't make him love her back.

Her love had never been of any use.

The bedroom door creaked open as Shelby Rivera and Molly entered, climbing into their bunks. The two of them seemed exhausted; after a quick greeting to Eden, they drifted off to sleep within minutes.

Eden lay awake for a while until she suddenly felt a piercing cold, shivering uncontrollably even under her blanket. She climbed out to adjust the thermostat, only to be hit by a wave of sharp, cramping pain in her lower abdomen. She checked the calendar—she was due for her period. The lack of sleep had likely triggered an early arrival.

She shuffled to the bathroom, changed, and felt a sudden, parched thirst on her way back through the living room. She grabbed an unopened bottle of mixed fruit juice, took a few gulps, and climbed back into bed.

Shelby stirred from the movement, groggily asking where she’d been. Eden murmured that it was just her period and told her to go back to sleep.

A while later, Eden felt her head becoming unnaturally heavy. Her throat grew dry and raw. Worse, she found it difficult to breathe, and an intense wave of nausea washed over her.

She couldn't hold it anymore. She scrambled out of bed, leaning against the walls to steady herself as she made her way to the bathroom. Passing the coffee table, she glanced at the juice bottle and felt a jolt of panic—it contained an ingredient she was allergic to. She locked the bathroom door and heaved over the toilet for what felt like an eternity, but since she’d barely eaten, she only brought up clear, watery bile.

Her body felt like a drained husk. Her stomach twisted, her head throbbed, and her vision blurred. She clawed her way to the door and reached for the knob, but her fingers lacked the strength to even turn the lock.

"Why are you here?" Shelby’s voice drifted from the living room.

"Just grabbing water from the fridge. You?"

"Eden wasn't feeling well tonight. I heard her go into the bathroom a while ago and she hasn't come out, so I came to check on her."

"She's not feeling well?" Lucas’s voice.

"She's... it's that time of the month," Shelby said vaguely.

Eden desperately twisted the door handle. Finally, the two outside heard the metallic clicking from the bathroom door.

"Eden?" Lucas called out.

She tried to answer, but her voice was a faint, pathetic rasp, too weak even for her to hear.

She slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the cold tiles.

Suddenly, a heavy thud against the wood—Lucas was ramming the door. A moment later, the lock gave way, and he burst in. His brow knitted into a sharp line the moment he saw her. "Where does it hurt?"

Eden tried to speak, but only managed a pained grimace.

Lucas pressed a palm to her forehead and recoiled at the heat. He crouched, hoisted her onto his back without a word, and stood up.

"Is she okay?" Shelby asked, following them.

"She's burning up. I'm taking her to the hospital."

"It's so late, and the rain is so bad. You won't find a cab, how can you—"

Lucas didn't wait. He charged out into the storm with Eden on his back.

The nearest hospital was a thirty-minute drive. Was he really planning to carry her all the way there?

Shelby chased them to the door, grabbed an umbrella, and shoved it into Eden’s hand. Eden’s grip was weak, but she managed to hold on.

"Be careful!"

Before Shelby could finish, Lucas sprinted into the downpour.

Eden rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her scorching cheek against his cold, soaked T-shirt.

"Hold on, we're almost there," Lucas panted, his breath ragged as he ran.

*We?*

"Just hold on, we're almost there."

"Eden, how can you be this strong when you're sick? I can't imagine how I'm going to endure your endless bullying for the rest of my life."

Eden slowly lifted her head, staring at the dark, uneven road that swayed before her eyes.

The rain washed over the night. The road seemed to have no end.

Could it really have no end?

If he just kept running, carrying her, it wouldn't matter where he took her.

As long as she was with him, anywhere was fine.

Her body was drenched in cold sweat, shivering violently. It felt as if someone were clamping her nose and mouth shut, making every breath a battle. Yet, she hoped this path would take forever.

Don't let there be a destination. Don't let dawn come. Don't let the rain stop.

Don't let Lucas leave her.

The rain intensified, slamming against her body with icy, bone-chilling force. She saw Lucas’s hair matted down, his pale face drained of all color.

She suddenly wanted to ask him: *In all the years we were apart, was the rain in your life this heavy, too?*

*When you were drenched, were you cold? Were you in pain?*

How could he not be in pain?

Just thinking about it made her heart ache enough to break.

The freezing rain splattered against the umbrella and onto Lucas’s hollow cheeks. Eden’s eyelashes trembled. She used every last ounce of her strength to grip the handle, tilting the umbrella forward to shield him, ensuring his head remained completely dry.

She felt his stride stutter.

She wanted to say, *Don't leave this time, okay?*

*Because I really, truly missed you.*

*Every single day we were apart, I was thinking of you.*

*I missed you so much.*

*I love you so much.*

*So many people say they like me, but I don't care about them. The one I like is you.*

*I only like you.*

Eden opened her mouth to whisper his name, but before the words could escape, her consciousness began to fray.

Her grip loosened, and the umbrella fell into the abyss of the rain. In the final second before she blacked out, she heard Lucas screaming her name.

He was shouting: "Eden!"

"Eden, Eden, Eden..."

"Why do you keep saying my name!"

"Because it sounds nice. As nice as 'Lucas Powell,'" he said, looking smug.

"Narcissist!" Eden snapped. "You're sitting in my seat!"

"I know it's your seat. That's exactly why I'm sitting in it!"

"If you've got the guts, stay there and don't ever leave!" Eden yelled at him.

"I'm not leaving." The boy dropped his cocky facade, looking at her with such gentleness that it took her breath away. "I'm right here. I'm never leaving again."

"Eden? Eden?"

Eden stirred in her dream, but before she could respond, someone shook her awake. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital bed with an IV drip attached to her hand.

Shelby stood before her.

"Where's Lucas?" Eden asked, trying to sit up.

Shelby hurried over to adjust her pillows.

"He’s probably already on the plane by now," Shelby said. "Don't you remember? His flight was today."

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a glow on Eden’s face. She stared out at the window. The pale blue sky was cloudless, save for a thin, white line trailing slowly across the horizon.

That plane would soar thousands of meters high, flying toward a horizon she could no longer reach.

Without realizing it, a tear fell, sliding down her cheek and soaking into the white medical tape on her hand.

"Eden? Why are you crying? Are you still in pain?"

"Yes," Eden said, her voice gravelly. "It hurts so much."

"I'll call the doctor—"

"Just let me sleep a little longer," Eden interrupted, tilting her head back to hide the tears. "Let me sleep for a while longer, then the pain will stop."

Let me sleep a little longer.

Once I'm back in the dream, I won't have to hurt anymore.

Because in that dream, Lucas said he was never leaving again.