( Vihaan's POV )
The fading warmth of the day still clung to the air as Vihaan crossed the gravel path, the low hum of cicadas rising like a soft curtain around him.
The park, bathed in dusky gold, had emptied out save for a few lingering joggers and scattered echoes of distant laughter.
He didn't expect to hear his name—certainly not spoken in that particular voice, light and edged with amusement.
He turned instinctively, eyes drawn to the boy beneath the Champa tree, one hand lifted in a lazy wave, the other clutching a sketchpad.
Kavin.
Of course.
Somehow, he managed to be both out of place and entirely at home beneath the spilling blossoms.
Vihaan hesitated a moment before walking over, shoes brushing quietly through the grass. The evening air had cooled just enough to make the breeze feel like silk against the skin, stirring the scent of wet earth and Champa blooms into something achingly nostalgic.
Kavin sat beneath the tree with his back leaned casually against its knotted trunk, long legs stretched out in front of him, the sketchbook resting on his knees.
He looked up as Vihaan approached. "Hey," Kavin said, his voice soft but easy, like they'd spoken more than once. Vihaan stopped a foot or two away, unsure whether to sit or keep it short. The ground was damp, and so was the awkwardness he hadn't expected. Still, he found himself lowering into the grass beside him—not too close, not too far.
"You've been hiding all day, I didn't see you at school." Kavin said, his voice playful but edged with curiosity.
"I wasn't hiding," Vihaan replied with a tired smile, brushing a petal off his sleeve. "Just swamped. We've got this monstrous group project due next week, and our club decided to be overambitious and hold the meeting after school. Off-campus."
"Sounds intense," Kavin said, flipping his pencil through his fingers absentmindedly. "They really make you earn your future, huh?"
Vihaan huffed a small laugh. "Something like that."
There was a pause—not uncomfortable, just suspended. The kind of pause that left room for the sound of birds settling in for the evening, for the shuffle of wind through leaves, and for the scent of distant rain that hadn't yet fallen.
Kavin bent over his sketchbook, shielding it slightly as the light shifted through the canopy. Vihaan's gaze trailed down to the page and caught a glimpse of lines—fine, certain strokes shaping the curve of a tree trunk, the sprawl of roots, the soft slant of light between branches. The Champa tree. And the golden haze it stood in.
"That's… really good," Vihaan said before he could overthink it.
Kavin glanced at him, surprised. "Thanks."
"You captured the light," Vihaan added quietly, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself.
Kavin smiled, this time a little smaller, a little more real. "It's hard not to try when it looks like this."
He looked up at the canopy of the Champa, and Vihaan followed his gaze. For a moment, they just sat like that—two strangers drawn into the same frame, each seeing something different.
"Oh," Kavin added, straightening a little, "about the ceramics workshop— It's happening the day after tomorrow. If you're still curious, you should come."
Vihaan tilted his head. "You remembered?"
Kavin's grin returned, light but unapologetic. "You're not that easy to forget."
Vihaan looked away, unsure how to respond. The wind stirred again, cooler this time, and with it came a single drop—sharp and sudden—landing on his cheek like a punctuation mark.
He blinked. Then another drop fell, this time on the open sketchbook. Kavin flinched and hurried to close it, slipping the book and pencil inside a tote and hugging it to his chest.
"Seriously?" he muttered, glancing up.
Within seconds, the drizzle thickened, peppering the grass and slicking the leaves with silver.
"I don't think this is going to stay gentle," Vihaan said, already starting to stand.
Kavin followed, eyes scanning the park. "No shelters nearby?"
"Not unless you count running for our lives."
Kavin laughed—a quick, bright sound. "Then let's run."
They took off, shoes splashing through puddles that hadn't existed a minute ago, breath coming faster with each stride. The grass had turned traitorous, slick and sloping—Vihaan nearly lost his footing when Kavin suddenly stumbled beside him.
Instinctively, Kavin's hand shot out, catching Vihaan's arm. The grip was firm and surprisingly warm despite the rain. "Sorry! Wet grass and bad balance—my natural enemies."
Vihaan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the rain fell harder—so hard it blurred the trees and soaked them to the bone in seconds. Kavin grabbed his hand without asking this time. "Come on—we'll be slower if we split up!"
Vihaan didn't argue. The world had turned into a blur of movement and sound—the slap of rain, their laughter trailing behind them, the squelch of mud underfoot.
They found the tool shed near the edge of the gardener's path, half-hidden behind an overgrown bush. Kavin yanked the door open, and they both ducked inside, breathless, wet, and laughing.
The air inside the shed was warm in a stuffy, musty way. Wooden tools hung from hooks along the walls, and the scent of rust, damp earth, and old grass clippings curled around them. Kavin rested his head on the doorframe, catching his breath.
Vihaan leaned back against the wooden wall, chest heaving. His shirt clung to him like wet paper, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.
Across from him, Kavin shook out his arms like a drenched pup, water trailing down his jaw, dripping from his lashes. It clung to him in glistening streaks, his t-shirt plastered to his collarbone, hair dripping onto his eyebrows. He pushed it back, blinking as droplets flicked off his fingertips.
Vihaan's pulse fluttered—unexpected, uninvited, undeniable. His gaze lingered—just a second too long.
The shadows in the shed weren't deep enough to hide the details: the clean angles of Kavin's face, the soft hollow beneath his throat, the faint rise and fall of his chest. There was something strange about seeing someone like this—so unguarded, so real. Not polished or composed like in the corridors of school, but human in a way that felt… startling.
Kavin looked over and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked with a half-smile.
Vihaan shook his head quickly, turning his gaze toward the half-cracked window. "Nothing. Just… wondering if the rain's planning to let up anytime soon."
Kavin followed his line of sight and sighed. "Doesn't look like it."
Another quiet stretched between them, this one pulsing gently in Vihaan's chest, like the rain had rearranged something inside him.