The room felt different the moment I walked in.
Not quieter—louder, if anything—but the sound was careless in a way it hadn't been for a long time. Chairs scraped against the stone floor without anyone wincing. Someone dropped a weapon rack with a clatter and laughed instead of apologizing. Voices overlapped. Someone argued about something meaningless.
Noise had returned.
Not tension. Not whispers. Just noise.
I stood in the doorway for a second longer than necessary, letting it register. The training hall—our training hall—was lit unevenly by late-afternoon sunlight slanting through the high windows. Dust floated lazily in the air. Class 2-S was scattered around the room in no particular formation, some sitting on the floor, some leaning against the walls, some half-heartedly sparring and failing to take it seriously.
And when they saw me—
No one flinched.
No one stiffened.
They just… reacted.
Like I was supposed to be here.
Theon noticed first, of course. He always did.
"RAIN!"
He shot to his feet like he'd been launched out of a siege engine, knocking over a chair in the process. He crossed the room in seconds, skidded to a stop in front of me, and immediately started talking too fast.
"I'm sorry. Okay—wait. I'm sorry for not stopping you. Or for not following you. Or maybe I should've followed you? I don't know. I should've done something. Or maybe not. I just—"
"Theon," I said.
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.
"You're still my friend," I said evenly. "Sit down."
His lip trembled.
He sat down anyway.
I looked past him and finally stepped fully into the room.
The tension I'd been bracing for wasn't there—but I could still feel the echo of it, like a bruise that hadn't quite faded. Everyone was relaxed now, but this had been earned. The silence had already been broken before I arrived.
Kai approached next.
No speech. No dramatic pause.
He handed me something—my old sword strap. Repaired. The buckle cleaned and reforged, the leather restitched carefully, like he'd put real thought into doing it right.
"I should've trusted you," he said quietly.
That was it.
No justification.
No apology that tried to take up space.
That landed harder than anything else that day.
I nodded once. "Thanks."
Liam cleared his throat.
"So," he said, grinning a little too hard. "Anyone else get arrested by the entire judicial system lately, or is that just Rain?"
It almost landed.
Almost.
The room groaned in unison.
I laughed anyway.
The sound surprised me. It came out rough at first, like something unused, then loosened into something real. My chest felt strange afterward—as if a muscle I'd kept locked for too long had suddenly been forced to move.
Varein and Kazen sat near the edge of the group, closer to me than anyone else.
We didn't speak at first.
Just sat shoulder to shoulder, knees drawn up, staring at the far wall where old training marks told stories better than we ever could.
Varein finally broke.
"I kept blaming myself," he admitted quietly. "Thinking if I'd stayed away, none of this would've happened."
Kazen scoffed softly. "I was angry."
Varein frowned. "At who?"
"Everything," Kazen replied. Then, after a pause, "Not you. Not Rain. Just… the situation."
I exhaled slowly.
"I didn't ask either of you to follow me," I said. "But I'm glad you did."
That settled something.
Not dramatically.
Just… permanently.
Seraphyne had been acting strange all evening.
Which, for her, meant acting completely normal.
She didn't tease me. Didn't smirk. Didn't make a single cutting remark. She sat close—close enough that I could feel the warmth of her shoulder through the fabric of my uniform—listened more than she spoke, and watched me like she was taking notes on something only she could see.
Everyone noticed.
No one said a word.
Someone—probably Liam—brought food.
It was bad.
Overcooked. Undersalted. Clearly stolen from somewhere it wasn't supposed to be stolen from.
We ate it anyway.
I realized halfway through chewing that this was the first time I'd eaten without feeling watched in… I didn't know how long.
That mattered more than the meal itself.
Aelira spoke up unexpectedly.
"I was angry," she said gently. "Because I thought you didn't trust us."
The room quieted slightly.
Her gaze didn't waver. "Now I know you were scared."
I didn't answer at first.
Then I did.
"I was."
No qualifiers. No defenses.
Just truth.
Liraeth nodded once. Then added, completely unprompted, "You don't have to carry everything just because you can."
Silence followed.
No one argued.
Later, someone told a story—something stupid from our first year. Someone slipping during morning drills, landing face-first in mud while swearing it was intentional. The details spiraled out of control. Everyone laughed. Hard.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn't Rain-the-problem.
I was just Rain.
Mid-conversation—no buildup, no warning—Seraphyne leaned over.
And kissed me.
Quick. Firm. Real.
The room exploded.
I froze.
Every single thought left my head at once.
My face felt like it had caught on fire.
"HE CAN BLUSH?!" someone shouted.
My ears burned. My cheeks burned. I was pretty sure even my neck was red.
I tried to speak.
Failed.
Covered my face with both hands.
Seraphyne leaned back, completely unbothered.
"I wanted to," she said simply. "He didn't die."
That was her explanation.
She sat back down like nothing happened.
The teasing was immediate and merciless.
Theon grinned so wide it looked painful.
Kai very pointedly looked away and failed to hide a smirk.
Kazen pretended not to react—and absolutely reacted.
"I hate all of you," I muttered into my palms.
They laughed harder.
Later—when the chaos faded, voices lowering, people stretching out and settling into comfortable exhaustion—Seraphyne sat beside me again.
No teasing.
No smirk.
"You don't get to disappear on me," she said quietly.
I nodded.
That promise mattered.
As night crept in and stars appeared beyond the high windows, people lingered longer than necessary. No one seemed eager to leave. Laughter softened into conversation. Conversation softened into quiet.
I watched them.
All of them.
And felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time.
Not safety.
Belonging.
The difference mattered.
If the world wanted me cold—
Then this warmth was my rebellion.