It was raining again.

And it had been raining all night. After the rain of yesterday night, Barry could see the dark mud of the path, yet the pine needles on top were already pale and moving with the breeze.

The soil was so damp that the worms had surfaced to breathe, and the crows fluttered over the grass with their inky wings, each of them eating at the sudden buffet. He tilted his head toward the sun, feeling the gentle warmth, noticing how the sky was darker blue the higher he let his eyes wander.

Barry hadn’t slept all night. Although, if you looked at him, you’d know on your own. His hollow eyes and sore face were the proof.

Any man – anyone – in his situation would be happy, relaxed, to say the least. Finally, after being stuck on a forgotten Island, he was about to be united with his family. He had a way to go back home and live his everyday and easy life, but he looked like the complete opposite.

Barry wasn’t sure where he was going either. He didn’t have a plan; he wasn’t used to having a plan. It was Freya’s job to figure out what they were going to do, but since Freya left him last night, he had been wandering through the forest.

Last night – when the rain had lost the ambient temperature of early fall – it started freezing and paling Barry’s skin on contact. The path he was walking was muddy water in motion, filling deep puddles that hide the ruts of dryer weather. The droplets soaked his eyelashes before they joined their brethren on the ground like salt more minor tears.

Barry needed to be in this – chaotic and wild weather – just like his mind and soul, like nature looked right into him and pulled the weather out.

He wasn’t ready to let go of her, not yet.

But when did she become so important to him? Not that he didn’t enjoy her company; he loved being around her, talking to her about everything and anything. The more they got close, the more he craved her.

He sighed and kept walking on the damp grass.

Freya wasn’t reserved or soft, no. He could never use those words to describe her. Freya wasn’t like any character he’d read or seen so far back home. She was a whole new character with her charisma. Freya’s tongue was ripped like a razor, and she always had a weapon on her. So, it was evident she’s no angel but a warrior and her scars were her trophies.

“Guess I’ve been falling for you since day one…” he whispered to himself.

“What the fuck am I doing?” He closed his eyes tightly, “This is stupid.” He whispered to himself and shook his head.

I can’t stay here, he thought, this isn’t my home. California is – with my family, my college, my regular routine. I can’t stay here. So I have to leave – with or without Freya.

He turned around abruptly and started walking towards where he found the remains of the fighter plane. Things would have been easier if Freya had decided to be a part of his plan. Her parents were part of the army; she could have helped him and herself.

He looked around. Now that the rain had stopped a bit, the thick fog – in all its glory – made it hard for him to see, but he did not stop walking. The forest, being open from all sides, helped Barry take a peak. As he moved further – the ground – very unequal and rough and in some places perfectly riddled with holes, made it extremely painful for Barry to walk. Still, he was least bothered, unlike the first time he stepped on the same path.

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Barry walked for what seemed like hours until his legs gave up. His throat felt like a Sahara desert – so dry and sore; every lungful of hot hair robbed more water from his body. There was a pain at the back of his head that threatened to grow into a powerful migraine, a sure sign that dehydration isn’t far away. Gladly he still had the bottle full of water from the waterfall.

He sneaked in a hard breath and sat down for a bit. Then, resting his head on the bare grass, he immediately recognized the scent and damp grass beneath him.

Tears almost welled up in his eyes. The forest looked more like an enchanted forest you’d read about in books and watch in movies—majestic trees with long branches everywhere. Barry smiled at the mushrooms which grew under the shady roof of the forest. He found the ‘giant mushrooms’ weird until they saved Freya and him from the thunderstorm, serving as an umbrella. Barry stopped walking for a bit. He could hear the distant squeaks of scurrying squirrels.

He smiled to himself; in a few days, there would be no animal preying on his life, no sudden rains, hailstorms, Banshees, killer butterflies, giant mushrooms, poisoned leaves…. All that sounded fantastic, but what itched him was that there’d be no more crazy fireworks, beautiful sunsets, breathtaking sunrises… but more importantly, there would be no Freya.

Barry’s eyes widened as he sat straight. He could still feel the migraine at the back of his head, but it wasn’t bigger than what he had just realized.

There she stood. Not caring about the rain, not caring about anything. And this feeling was new for Freya too, but it was okay.

“Why are we running?” She asked.

The water traveled all the way down to her black hair before falling to her shoulder. The fog was so heavy, it was impossible to see ten feet away.

“I – I don’t know,” Barry replied, smiling.

She smiled and shrugged, “its okay.”

He watched her turn around and look towards the sky. First, her eyes closed as the rain dropped on her face. Then, before Barry could look away, she turned around.

“I didn’t complete my sentence….” He put his hand in his pocket and bit his lip.

Freya smiled, “Didn’t have to.” She replied before pushing her lips against his.

Barry’s lips parted as the color drained off his face.

“Fuck,” He whispered to himself, “It wasn’t a dream. I fucking kissed Freya!”

He finally realized.