Garson stood still, the rain no longer just falling — it was drowning him, soaking through every layer like the ache in his heart.
His voice trembled as he looked down at the grave, barely above a whisper but louder than any scream inside him.
"Mom… I miss you. I really do."
And with that, he broke — tears spilling freely, mixing with the rain as his body shook from the weight he'd been carrying too long.
There was no one to see him cry.
No one to stop the storm outside or the one inside him.
Just Garson… and the rain… and the ghost of a love that once held him safe.
Garson wiped his eyes roughly, standing in the rain like it could cleanse the rage burning inside him.
"But I'm done, Mom," he choked out. "I'm sorry… but I won't listen to that man anymore. He only knows how to care for her — that witch — and his stupid new son."
His voice cracked, bitter and broken, swallowed by the sound of thunder above.
"He forgot me, Mom. Like I never mattered."
Garson slowly got to his feet, his knees muddy from the soaked ground. His fingers clenched tightly around a small, delicate necklace — his mother's — the chain cold, but the memory behind it warm and aching.
He looked down at the grave one last time.
"I'll never forget you," he whispered, voice barely holding steady.
Then, he knelt down and gently placed a bundle of fresh white flowers at the foot of the stone — the only color in the gray world around him.
The rain fell softly now, as if the sky itself was finally mourning with him.
With a final glance, he tucked the necklace safely into his jacket… and turned to walk away.
Garson pushed the front door open, his footsteps heavy with water and mud trailing behind him. His clothes were drenched, clinging to his skin, streaked with dirt from kneeling on the soaked ground.
The house was warm — too warm — and quiet except for the soft ticking of a clock.
His father sat in the living room, a thick book open in his hands. At the sound of the door, he looked up.
The moment their eyes met, he froze.
Garson — soaked, muddy, and red-eyed — stood like a ghost in his own home.
"What the hell—? Where were you?" his father asked, voice laced with shock more than concern.
Garson didn't answer. He just stared at him, jaw clenched, shoulders trembling.
It wasn't the cold.
It was everything else.
Garson didn't reply to his father. He simply walked past him, water dripping from his sleeves, footsteps squelching against the wooden floor.
But just as he turned the corner, someone came rushing from the hallway — and bumped hard into him.
"Oh man—are you crazy?!" James snapped, pulling back, clearly annoyed. "You got mud on me—what the hell's wrong with you?"
Garson stood still, chest rising and falling. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides.
He didn't even look at James.
He just muttered under his breath, voice low and shaking, "Get out of my way."
Garson brushed past James without another word, climbing the stairs with slow, heavy steps. The water from his clothes dripped onto each step, leaving a trail of sorrow behind him.
The hallway was dim, the light flickering weakly above. He pushed his bedroom door open and stepped inside, shutting the world out with a quiet click.
The morning light spilled gently into the campus café, golden and warm. Danna sat across from Natalia, fingers wrapped around her coffee cup, steam curling into the air like her thoughts.
She was mid-sip when her eyes caught someone outside the window.
Garson.
Walking slowly, hands shoved in his pockets. Bandages wrapped around one of them. His usually unreadable face looked… darker. Not angry. Not tired.
Just haunted.
Something about the way his eyes avoided everyone's — how he didn't even have his usual sarcastic slouch — unsettled her.
But Danna shook it off. He's weird anyway, she told herself.
Ten minutes before class, she spotted him near the hallway.
She walked up with her usual energy and quirked an eyebrow.
"Hey Mr. Whatever, we have to present, remember?" she said with a nudge in her tone.
Garson didn't look at her. Just gave a small nod and walked into the classroom without a word.
Danna blinked, slightly thrown off.
"…Okay, ruder than usual," she muttered under her breath, following after him — but that feeling in her chest wouldn't go away.
Something was off.
And it was more than just mood swings.
The classroom buzzed with quiet chatter, students preparing their notes, adjusting project slides, or whispering about who would mess up their part. The projector hummed softly, and the smell of ink and paper hung in the air.
Danna stood at the front, flipping through her cue cards. She glanced sideways at Garson — who stood beside her, still and distant, his hands in his pockets, bandages slightly visible.
His face was unreadable, eyes shadowed with something far away. No witty remarks. No smug smirk. Just… silence.
The teacher nodded. "Alright, Danna and Garson, you're up."
Danna took a deep breath, forcing a smile.
"Good morning," she began, "we'll be presenting on—"
But she could still feel it — that quiet storm next to her.
Garson finally stepped forward when it was his turn. His voice was calm, steady, but colder than usual. He delivered his points perfectly… but with no spark. No engagement. Not even his usual bored sarcasm.
It was like someone else was standing there in his place — a shadow version of him.
When they finished, Danna looked at him again.
He didn't look back.
He just returned to his seat, quietly, as if the presentation hadn't happened at all.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students packed up and chattered as they filed out — but Garson slipped away quietly, leaving the room before anyone else.
Danna caught up with Aiden by the door, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Hey, do you know what's going on with Garson? He seemed… off today," she asked softly.
Aiden glanced at her, a flicker of sadness crossing his face.
"Actually, he's been thinking a lot about his mom lately," Aiden said quietly.
Danna blinked, surprised. "Wait, why? Is she somewhere else? Like, another country?"
Aiden shook his head slowly, eyes darkening. "No… she's not in this world anymore."
There was a pause. The truth hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Danna swallowed hard and nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly, then turned and walked away.
After searching the whole campus, Danna finally spotted him — sitting alone in the library, near a window. The soft daylight filtered in, casting a calm glow over his tired face.
She approached quietly, holding out a steaming cup of coffee with a tentative smile.
"Mr., do you want some coffee?" she said softly, placing the cup in front of him.
Garson glanced up, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before drifting back to the gray world outside.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered, voice low and rough.
Danna settled down across from him, her smile never fading.
Danna sipped her coffee and gave him a small, teasing smile.
"I thought I should appreciate my enemy for the presentation," she said, eyes glinting with mischief.
Garson finally let out a quiet, almost reluctant chuckle, the tension around him loosening just a bit.
"Enemy, huh?" he muttered, turning his gaze back to the window. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today."
For a moment, the library felt less cold — like maybe there was a chance for something more than just silence between them.
Garson glanced at her, noticing the smile playing on her lips.
"Could you stop smiling?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady but failing a little.
"You look… ugly when you smile like that."
Danna blinked, caught off guard, but then a sly grin spread across her face.
"Oh please, Mr. Grumpy, I'm way cuter than you think."
"Cuter? Let me see then," Garson challenged, standing up and sliding into the seat beside her.
His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and daring.
"Garson, you're getting way too close," Danna warned, inching back just a little, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit.
Garson's smirk deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"You're shy when I come close," he said, voice low and teasing.
Danna's cheeks warmed instantly. Without looking at him, she turned her face away and muttered,
"You're crazy. Just drink your coffee."
The quiet between them filled with a different kind of electricity — soft, tangled, and impossible to ignore. Garson smiled quietly to himself, the corners of his lips tugged up for a reason only she could ever understand.
It was her — that little spark, that presence — that made him forget the weight he carried.