CHAPTER 4

It looked like it could rain. The sky was a dense, unbroken expanse of gray, the kind that made it hard to tell where the clouds left

off and the horizon began. A low rumble of thunder growled in the distance, like a warning. That was

just great for Jude Queens. He pulled his hood over his head, its fabric muffling the world, and took

off running. The air was crisp early in

the

morning, with the smell of wet

soil and eucalyptus.

It

was

pleasant. The repetitive

thud of his feet on the pavement, the rhythm of his breathing, the soft

beat of rain

beginning to fall—everything was automatic. Every step was a distraction, every breath a means

of

preventing his mind from wandering. He didn't need to think about a thing. If his mind

did

start to drift, to slip back into

visions of him, he could simply push himself a little further. Jude felt

the burn in his muscles and the pain in his lungs, and then it would all be clear again.

The path was almost deserted now, the usual crowd of joggers and dog walkers missing. Just him and the rain, a soft mist that

had

changed

to

thicker

droplets

which fell from the leaves and gathered in shallow pools. His boots

squelched through them, sending small crescents of water into the air.

Jude ran for almost an hour, the rain increasing

harder

and harder until it was pounding his face.

He

was soaked through

to his skin, clothes clinging to him, but he didn't care. The rain was a screen, shutting the world from view, trapping him in his own personal bubble of perspiration. But finally, the storm

sent

him back. His muscles

were chilled, fingers numb, and he knew that he couldn't be out in

the

open

long

enough

to catch cold.

When Jude came

to his apartment, water flowed off his jacket and puddled on the floor as he fumbled with the keys. He pushed the door to his room open and saw Klaus lying on the bed.

Klaus sat up, eyebrows raised. "You went

out in the rain? Angst much?" he said, not unkindly but with that habitual teasing tone.

What are you doing here?" Jude asked, starting to remove

his soggy clothes.

"I'm here for the show," Klaus responded as Jude yanked

off his shirt. Jude scowled, not ready

for humor. "Come on, Jud. I'm worried about you.".

“I’m fine,” Jude lied, his voice flat. He toweled off and changed into dry clothes. He faced Klaus, hands on his hips, feeling the familiar tension of frustration and fatigue.

“You look far from fine,” Klaus said, concern deepening the lines on his forehead.

Jude couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he moved to his desk chair and sat down, staring out the window at the rain now hammering against the glass.

"I am," he told Klaus, annoyed. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? "I told the same to Yon, Phoenix, and the rest of the team when they dropped

by

unexpectedly. I

am not a child. I don't need you babysitting

me."

Klaus wasn't upset. He was worried. Jude clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Jud, it's been months. He left months ago," Klaus said.

"Believe me, I

know."

Alright, you're going to class. But are you talking to anyone? Because you sure as hell aren't talking to anyone on the team. You just sulk. In here all day. I get it. You're upset, but you need to start getting over it," Klaus clarified.

"I'm not upset," Jude said back. Upset was this

small little word for

the

large

thing he was

feeling.

"Yeah, you are, and it's okay, but you have to move

on,"

Klaus insisted.

"Why?" Jude asked.

Klaus blinked.

"Why do I need to move

on? It's not easy. He was everything, and now he's dead. I think I'm justified

in not being over it yet."

"Let's go out," Klaus suggested.

"I don't want to go out," Jude told him.

"Come on, it'll be fun. You could find someone," Klaus said.

"I don't want to see

anyone; I just want you to leave me miserable in peace," Jude snarled. Klaus eyed him severely

until Jude sighed and gazed

out the window once more.

"You're not the first man

ever to

get dumped, Jud," Klaus told him.

Jude pressed his lips together. He knew that. It didn't make it easier.

"I know you won't

depend

on anyone, but I'm not leaving it to you alone. I can see how miserable you are. Just let me help," Klaus begged.

"I think you've helped enough," Jude said.

Klaus let out a sour laugh. "Oh, so now it's

my fault?" he scoffed, shaking his head.

Jude glared

at his lap. No, it wasn't. For real, Klaus was the last one

Jude

needed

to

be mad at.

"It's not," Jude started.

Klaus stood

up

from the bed. "You know, Jud, some

times you really fucking make it hard to be your friend. Did you know that?" he growled

in anger.

Jude looked up at Klaus, feeling ashamed

at Klaus's angry face.

"I'm starving, so I'm off to get a

bite to eat. Do you want

pizza?" Klaus spoke

likewise, still furious.

A smile crept

up

on Jude's lips and then a laugh

fermented.

Klaus closed his eyes and exhaled. "At

last."

"Sorry. Pizza sounds great," Jude told Klaus.

Klaus grinned. "I'll be right back. Everything's going to be okay, big guy. You'll see. I know it doesn't feel

that

way

at the moment, but you will."

Jude shrugged

one shoulder in response, the smile dropping from his lips. He didn't think so.

The door shut

on Klaus, and Jude was

left

to the rhythm of rain on the windowpane. Jude rubbed his eyes, the tiredness

telling. Six months had gone

by since he'd

gone, but it was

a lifetime. Each day merged into another, a gray

haze of classes, training, and sleepless nights. Jude thought he'd be over it by now, but the aching in his chest told

a different tale.

Jude stood up and headed to the window, watching as raindrops flowed down the pane. The campus was almost deserted in the rain. Students under umbrellas hurried to class, heads ducked

into the wind. Jude caught

a

glimpse of the running path from here, now empty and wet.

He turned away from the window, a lump in his throat. Klaus was right, however. Jude couldn't go

on like this, stuck in the past and shutting everybody out. But moving on from it seemed out of the question. Malachi Flynn really had been it all.

Sighing, Jude sat back down on the bed, running a hand through his wet hair. He set

it down, staring at the ceiling, and let the rhythm of the rain calm him into numbness. It was better than the pain, even if only for a little while. Malachi had walked

out

on him without saying a word and never answered his calls. That's how he had ended it. It took Jude weeks to acknowledge

that it was over, that Malachi wasn't coming

back or calling or anything. Malachi had simply

walked out.

The day with Klaus pushed Jude in the direction he needed to go and accept that

he

needed

to

move on. It took Jude twice as many months to even glance at anyone else, and nearly two years to feel as

though he was over Malachi.

Following winter vacation

the

third year

was going

for

Jude. The weight of years

was

slowly

shifting

off

his

shoulders, and Jude breathed

easier, smiled more readily. He didn't

think

of

Malachi

at all anymore. If his

name

was

summoned, he could go

away without listening in. Jude had thrown himself into school

and running

and

found solace in the stable rhythms they provided.

There was a bitter taste in the air as Jude walked Yon and Klaus to the clubhouse. It was their last semester on the team. Yon had thought

of not returning, but Klaus had persuaded him to, as he always did.

"There's a party at the start

of

term on Saturday," Yon stated.

Jude groaned. "Fucking parties," Jude complained, and they both chuckled.

"God, why must you be so boring?" Klaus asked.

"They don't get stressed

out. It's the same individuals, drunk and sweating in a hot, dark room. Why would you do

that?" Jude replied.

"Because it's our last first party," Yon explained.

"I don't want to go. I'm not going. I hate these parties. You know I hate these parties," Jude told them.

"Yeah, we've heard," Yon replied, frowning down at his phone.

We could go out," Klaus said.

"I'm still underage," Jude reminded him.

"God, you're dull," Klaus announced, but a smirk danced

at the corner of his mouth. "So I guess you just have to go to the party," Klaus continued.

"Or I could just not go," Jude announced. They shook their heads together. They arrived

at the clubroom and opened the door.

I could simply

be at home and watch a movie alone. That's

the best idea," Jude had said. Jude looked

over

at Klaus, but Klaus's smile faltered. "What?" Jude asked and glared at the team. They were all sitting

on the benches, talking.

"Fuck," Klaus muttered.

They all looked back at them, and the world became quiet.

Jude's stomach dropped, his nails grinding into the meat of his palms as he curled his fists. This wasn't happening. He had

to

be dreaming. Malachi hadn't broken

up

with him, disappeared off the face of the planet, and come

back

two

years

later

without

so

much

as

a

warning, no forewarning, nothing.

The sight of Malachi hit Jude like a punch to the gut. Malachi’s eyes were fixed on Jude’s, their familiar green now clouded with an emotion Jude couldn’t read. Malachi looked the same, yet different—his hair a bit shorter, his face a little less lean—but it was him. The smile on Malachi’s lips slowly faded as he assessed Jude’s reaction. The air felt thick and heavy, pressing down on Jude, making it difficult to breathe.

No.

Jude said no.

This was

not going down

today.

Jude tightened his grip on his bag

and

turned

to

just

walk right on out, his

feet

echoing

away

down

the rubber floor. Jude didn't look back. He couldn't. He just kept on going, moving

as

far

away

from

Malachi as he could.