Into The Rain With You

The days after that conversation with Haruka in the park felt like walking on a tightrope. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to confess the parts of me that were broken, the things I had buried deep down. But every time I tried to speak, the words got caught in my throat, like they were too heavy to let out.

Haruka had made it easy to want to open up, but every time I saw her, I felt this strange combination of fear and guilt. Fear that I'd say too much, guilt that I wasn't enough—wasn't strong enough, wasn't whole enough.

I kept thinking about her hand on my arm that afternoon. It had been so simple, so small, but it had sent a thousand thoughts crashing through my mind. She hadn't tried to fix me. She hadn't offered empty platitudes like everyone else. She had just been there. And for the first time in ages, I felt like I didn't have to hide.

But the more I thought about it, the more it scared me.

Maybe I wasn't ready to let anyone see what was inside me. Maybe, if I did, it would be too much for them to handle.