"It's not that I want to go," Poppy Fenwick said, her voice tinged with exasperation as her eyes stayed glued to the scuffed linoleum floor. It was easier to stare at the familiar imperfections beneath her feet than to meet the heavy emotions radiating from Lela Johnson, whose presence seemed to fill the small room with a suffocating sadness.

Lela wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand, her voice cracking. "It's just... I mean, we need you here, Pops."

Poppy cringed at the nickname. She hadn't realized how much she had grown to love it over the past two years, how much it had become a part of her identity. Her hand trembled as she rubbed the back of her neck, trying to maintain her composure. "You, Nate, and Rach—you guys are the ones who do all the real work. You've kept this place running and helped me more than I ever deserved. How do you think I got and stayed clean for two whole years?"

"Two years, six days, and seventeen hours," Lela mumbled, her red-rimmed eyes brimming with fresh tears. The calculation of Poppy's sobriety wasn't just a number to either of them—it was a lifeline, something they both clung to as proof of survival.

"Hey, hey, it's not like I'm not coming back," Poppy said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She reached out, cupping Lela's chin and gently tilting her face up so their eyes could meet. The tears clinging to Lela's lashes made Poppy's heartache in a way that felt almost unbearable. She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across Lela's lips, the warmth of it lingering between them. "We'll see each other again. Soon."

Lela's shoulders heaved with a sigh, her body trembling. "I just thought… we have something, you know, Pops?" Her voice cracked as she kissed Poppy again, this time planting a tender kiss on the small mole above the left side of Poppy's lips, a spot she had memorized after countless goodbyes, each one harder than the last.

Poppy's throat tightened, but she managed to keep her smile in place. "We do have something. We're friends. That isn't going to change, Lela. Nothing will take that away from us. But I have to go back now. I haven't seen my family in years. They don't know that I'm clean. They don't know that I finished high school and started college. I need to face them. And I need to let my mom know how sorry I am… for everything."

Lela nodded but remained silent, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Poppy's words hung heavy in the air, thick with a truth neither of them could deny.

"It would be so easy to stay," Poppy thought, her chest tightening as she looked at Lela. Staying in the safety of this place, surrounded by the people who had become her family, would be just as hard to leave as it had been to get clean. But something was pulling her back home, a strange urgency she couldn't quite shake. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The thought of home had crossed her mind only in fleeting moments—when the seasons changed or when something in the air reminded her of her childhood. Now, as she prepared to go back, memories flooded her: the lies she had told her mother, the fights with her sisters, the spiraling trouble at school. Holly had begged her to stop, had pleaded with her, telling her that she was throwing her life away. At the time, Poppy hadn't listened. She hadn't believed she could ever be anything other than lost.

Rehab had been Poppy's salvation, she reminded herself. It had taken everything from her—her pride, her independence—but it had also given her something she had never thought possible: a future. It had shown her that she could survive her emotions instead of drowning in them. For the first time, she had a plan. And that plan began with going home.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I know, I know," Lela said, sniffling and loudly blowing her nose into a tissue. "I'm just being a needy, cowardly bitch."

Poppy chuckled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, you are."

Nate Richards' deep, gravelly voice broke the tension in the room. "But we're all needy cowards when it comes to you, Poppy Flower," he teased, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Imma miss you most of all," he added, pulling her into a light embrace that lingered just a moment longer than usual. Nate's solid presence had always made Poppy feel safe like nothing could harm her while he was around.

Poppy couldn't help but giggle when he leaned in close and whispered, "Ooh, and this ass," giving her a playful tap on the butt. She let out a laugh that echoed through the room, momentarily cutting through the sadness.

"You guys are so dramatic," Poppy said, rolling her eyes even as her heart swelled with affection. "I won't be gone for long. You'll see. You've all been too good to me. You've changed the course of my life, and I will never forget that—or any of you. I love you guys."

Nate nodded, his usual cocky grin softening into something bittersweet as Lela's sobs grew quieter. Poppy reached for her backpack and the small tank bag that held her few belongings. She slung them over her shoulder, her heart heavy with the weight of goodbye.

"I'll call when I get home," she murmured, though the word home felt strange on her tongue. She hadn't called that place home in so long, and now, the thought of it felt almost alien. Could she even still call it home? Could her family still be the same after everything?

The thought nagged at her as she walked outside. The cool autumn air hit her face, thick with the promise of rain. The sky above was darkening, clouds swirling like a heavy blanket overhead. Poppy secured the tank bag to her bike, feeling the weight settle as she straddled the seat. The engine hummed beneath her, a low, comforting vibration that always reminded her of freedom. She glanced back at the rehab center one last time, her heart aching, before she revved the engine and sped off into the forest that lay between her and the next town.

As the miles stretched out ahead of her, the first drops of rain began to fall, cold and sharp against her skin. But something wasn't right. She wiped at her face, only to realize the wetness on her cheeks wasn't rain—it was her own tears. Her sobs came in ragged bursts, mingling with the sound of the wind rushing past her. The sky opened up above her, but something strange was happening.

The rain… it wasn't falling down.

The droplets, cold and steady, floated upward, defying gravity. They spun and twirled, shimmering in the dim light as they drifted toward the sky like small, weightless stars. Poppy blinked through her tears, her vision blurring as she tried to focus. The rain seemed to glitter as it wound upward through the air, droplets catching the light from the few lamps that lined the highway.

A chill ran down her spine. For a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating—after all, it felt like the kind of trip she hadn't experienced in years.

"I haven't tripped like this in a long time," she muttered to herself, laughing shakily as she wiped her eyes again. But the rain kept moving, spiraling upward in a graceful, impossible dance. Despite the oddness of it all, Poppy pressed harder on the gas, her bike roaring forward as if she could outrun the strangeness behind her.

As she watched the rain spiral upward, a strange peace washed over her mingled with a faint exhilaration. Was the rain somehow reacting to her? Mirroring her confusion, her sorrow? She didn't know how or why, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the rain was connected to her, responding to her in a way that defied explanation.

The rain swirled around her, cold but undeniably beautiful, spiraling up toward the dark sky as she left the rehab center—and Lela—far behind.

This is just the beginning, she thought, a shiver running through her body. I'm going home, but I have no idea what I'll find when I get there.