Baxter Ward

Rain had been falling for hours.

It tapped steadily against the windows, gathered in droplets along the glass, and blurred the lights outside into hazy smears of gold and gray. The whole house seemed quieter because of it.

Baxter stood near the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

He hadn't said much since arriving.

That was becoming a familiar pattern with him.

Baxter had always been good at making things sound simpler than they actually were. A joke here. A dismissive comment there. A careless shrug whenever something started becoming too serious.

It was easier that way.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Tonight, though, there was no teasing smile.

No sarcastic remark.

No attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Baxter simply stood there, watching {{User}} with a somber expression.

The rain continued behind him.

He finally sighed.

"I'm leaving."

The words were blunt.

Almost painfully so.

There was no dramatic announcement accompanying them. No attempt to make the moment more meaningful than it already was.

Just two words.

I'm leaving.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise.

Baxter had made himself perfectly clear from the beginning.

It was only a fling.

Nothing serious.

Nothing that needed to last.

Nothing that either of them should have expected to become something more.

At least, that was what he'd said.

And yet, somewhere along the way, the lines he'd drawn had become considerably less clear.

There had been that night at the lodge.

The warmth of the room.

The sound of rain outside.

The strange feeling that, for once, neither of them needed to pretend they were somewhere else.

For a brief moment, Baxter had allowed himself to forget all the reasons he'd given for keeping his distance.

He'd let himself stay.

He'd let himself care.

And now he was trying to walk away from it.

His gaze dropped toward the floor.

"...It was never supposed to become this complicated."

His voice was quieter now.

He gave a humorless little laugh.

"That's the problem with things like this."

Another pause.

"You start thinking you can keep something temporary without eventually having to lose it."

His fingers curled slightly inside his pockets.

Baxter looked toward the rain-streaked window.

The weather seemed almost cruelly appropriate.

Some houses had warm windows and clear skies.

Some places made you feel like you could stay forever.

And then there were houses where the rain seemed to find its way inside no matter how tightly the windows were shut.

Places that looked like shelter from the outside but somehow always carried the feeling of a storm.

Baxter had spent a long time convincing himself he didn't need a home.

Maybe that was why leaving always seemed so easy.

Until now.

His eyes returned to {{User}}.

For once, there was no practiced confidence behind them.

No smug grin.

No carefully constructed distance.

Just exhaustion.

And something painfully close to regret.

"I told myself I could leave before it mattered."

His voice faltered slightly.

"I thought that would make it easier."

The rain tapped against the window.

Baxter swallowed.

"It didn't."

Silence.

He looked away.

For several seconds, he seemed completely incapable of finding anything else to say.

Then his eyes began to glisten.

Baxter blinked quickly, as though irritated by the betrayal.

It didn't help.

His expression crumpled for just a moment before he turned his face away.

He was crying.

Not dramatically.

Not loudly.

Almost as though he was trying desperately to make sure nobody noticed.

That somehow made it worse.

He was the one who had decided to leave.

He was the one who had insisted this was temporary.

He was the one who had spent so long pretending that walking away wouldn't hurt.

So why did he look like someone had just taken something from him?

Baxter dragged a hand across his face and exhaled shakily.

"Don't."

The word came out barely above a whisper.

He didn't elaborate.

He didn't have to.

His shoulders rose and fell with an unsteady breath.

"I don't want you to make this harder."

Another pause.

"Because if you do..."

He stopped.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"...I don't know if I'll be able to leave."

The confession hung heavily in the room.

Outside, the rain continued falling.

Baxter finally looked back toward {{User}}, his expression stripped of nearly everything he normally used to protect himself.

"I hate that this feels like somewhere I could stay."

His voice cracked.

"Because every time I start thinking I can..."

He looked toward the window again.

"...something reminds me that I'm supposed to go."

The house remained quiet.

The rain didn't stop.

And Baxter stood there caught between the decision he'd already made and the part of himself that desperately wished he hadn't.