ALWAYS YOU

Chapter 3- SECRETS, SCARS AND SLEEPOVERS.

The rain continued long after Rory and Noah reached home.

They stood under the Hart family's front porch, completely soaked from head to toe.

Water dripped from Rory's long brown hair onto the wooden floorboards while Noah tried to wring out his school uniform.

Mrs. Hart opened the front door.

She stared at them for a moment.

Then she burst into laughter.

"My goodness! You two look like drowned kittens."

"We got caught in the rain," Rory said sheepishly.

"I can see that."

Mr. Hart appeared behind his wife, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

"Noah, if your mother sees you like this, she'll think we threw you into the river."

"It wasn't the river," Noah replied.

"It was Rory."

"I did nothing!"

"You made us race."

"You agreed!"

"I didn't know clouds could run this fast."

Everyone laughed.

Mrs. Hart shook her head.

"Both of you, upstairs. Change into something warm before either of you catches a cold."

An hour later, Noah sat on Rory's bedroom floor wearing one of Mr. Hart's oversized hoodies while his uniform dried downstairs.

"You look ridiculous," Rory giggled.

The sleeves hung far past his hands.

"You look worse."

She looked down.

She was wearing fluffy pink pajamas covered in tiny stars.

"My pajamas are cute."

"They're embarrassing."

"They're comfortable."

"I'll admit they're comfortable."

She threw a pillow at him.

He caught it easily.

"You throw pillows better than rubber balls."

"Oh, we're still talking about that?"

"I'll never forget."

"You say that about everything."

"Exactly."

The sound of thunder echoed outside.

Rory walked toward the window.

The rain had become softer now, leaving tiny droplets clinging to the glass.

"Noah?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think our time capsule is okay?"

He looked toward the park, barely visible through the rain.

"It's under the oak tree."

"So?"

"The oak tree has been there forever."

"What if the rain washes it away?"

"It won't."

"How do you know?"

He smiled.

"Because promises don't wash away."

Rory looked at him for a second before smiling back.

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am."

That evening, Noah's parents called.

"The roads are flooding," Mrs. Brooks explained over the phone.

"Can Noah stay with you tonight?"

"Of course," Mrs. Hart replied warmly.

"He practically lives here already."

Noah grinned.

"Told you."

Rory rolled her eyes.

"Don't get too comfortable."

Sleepovers had become a tradition.

The living room quickly transformed into a blanket fort.

Mr. Hart helped build the roof using chairs and bedsheets.

"There."

He stepped back proudly.

"The greatest fortress ever built."

"It leans," Rory pointed out.

"It's artistic."

"It's crooked."

"It's creative."

Noah nodded seriously.

"I like it."

Inside the fort, Rory spread out comic books while Noah unpacked a board game.

"Winner gets the last chocolate bar," Noah declared.

"You always make everything a competition."

"Because winning is fun."

"So is losing."

"No, it isn't."

"For me it is."

"That's because you never admit you lost."

"I have excellent imagination."

Three board games...

Two comic books...

One flashlight...

And an endless supply of popcorn later...

The clock read 10:17 p.m.

Both children lay on their backs inside the blanket fort.

The lights were off.

Only the flashlight illuminated the ceiling.

"Noah?"

"What?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

He thought for a moment.

"A basketball player."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're pretty good already."

He smiled.

"What about you?"

Rory looked toward the tiny opening in the blanket fort where a few stars had begun to appear.

"I don't know."

"You have to know."

"I like drawing."

"You do."

"And reading."

"You definitely do."

"And..."

She smiled.

"I think I want to design houses."

"Houses?"

"So families can make memories inside them."

Noah looked at her quietly.

"I think you'd be really good at that."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

She smiled.

"Thanks."

After a few minutes of silence, Noah spoke again.

"Can I tell you something?"

"You just did."

He laughed.

"I mean... a secret."

Rory immediately sat up.

"I love secrets."

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

He hesitated.

"When I was little..."

"You are little."

"When I was even littler."

She giggled.

"...I thought the moon followed me home."

Rory blinked.

"Seriously?"

"I said don't laugh."

She tried her hardest.

For exactly three seconds.

Then she burst into laughter.

"I knew it!"

"I couldn't help it!"

Noah crossed his arms dramatically.

"You're a terrible secret keeper."

"My turn."

He sighed.

"Fine."

"When I was five..."

She leaned closer.

"...I used to think Dad put the sun away every night."

Noah stared.

Then he laughed so hard he fell backward into the pillows.

"See?"

Rory laughed too.

"We're both weird."

"Yeah."

"But..."

He smiled.

"...I think being weird is more fun."

"I agree."

Around midnight, the rain had completely stopped.

Moonlight shone through the living room window.

Rory was already asleep.

Curled beneath a blanket with a comic book resting on her chest.

Noah sat quietly beside her.

He carefully picked up the comic before it slipped onto the floor.

"You'll wrinkle it," he whispered.

She didn't wake up.

He smiled softly.

"Goodnight, Rory."

Mrs. Hart watched from the hallway.

She smiled to herself.

"They really do take care of each other."

Mr. Hart slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"They always will."

Neither of them noticed that, outside, the old oak tree stood peacefully beneath the moonlight.

Hidden beneath its roots rested a rusty little lunchbox.

Inside were childhood treasures...

A blue marble.

A broken friendship bracelet.

Two handwritten promises.

And a future neither Rory nor Noah could possibly imagine.