The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle by the time they left the café.
The streets glistened under the dim glow of the streetlamps, reflections of gold and silver shimmering on wet asphalt.
Eli pulled his hood over his head, but Riven didn't bother. The light rain kissed his hair and skin, and for once, he didn't care about appearances.
They walked side by side without speaking. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the silence felt… peaceful now.
When they reached the edge of the park, Eli stopped.
"Do you want to keep walking?"
Riven hesitated. "With you? Always."
Eli smiled faintly, leading him down the winding path lined with rain-soaked benches. The scent of wet earth and fresh leaves wrapped around them like a blanket. Somewhere in the distance, a lone car hummed along the road, but here — it was just them.
After a while, Riven's voice broke the quiet.
"You really mean what you said back there? About not wanting easier?"
Eli turned his head, meeting his gaze under the soft streetlight. "I meant every word."
Riven gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," Eli replied. "Loving you isn't the hard part. It's you who makes it complicated — because you think you don't deserve it."
Riven's steps faltered. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes on the wet pavement. "I guess I just… keep expecting people to leave."
"Then let me prove I won't."
Eli reached out, gently hooking his pinky finger with Riven's. It was such a small, almost childish gesture, but it made something warm bloom in Riven's chest.
They walked like that — pinkies linked — until they reached the small gazebo in the center of the park.
Eli stepped inside first, brushing the rain from his sleeves. "Do you remember the first time we talked here?"
Riven nodded. "You told me my voice sounded like someone who's always holding back."
"And you told me I talk like I already know too much," Eli said with a faint smirk.
"Both still true," Riven murmured.
They sat on the wooden bench, the soft patter of rain on the gazebo roof above them.
Eli leaned back, closing his eyes. "You know… I'm not naïve. I know we're going to have more bad days. Maybe even really bad ones."
"That's… reassuring," Riven said dryly, though his lips curved slightly.
"I'm saying it because I don't want you to think I'm here just for the good parts," Eli continued. "If the road gets rough, I'll still walk it with you."
Riven stared at him for a long moment. His heart ached, not in the painful way it usually did, but in a way that made him feel alive.
"Eli…" he began softly, "I don't think I've ever told you this, but… you scare me."
Eli blinked. "I scare you?"
"Yeah," Riven admitted, looking away. "Because I've never let someone see this much of me. And you've seen everything — even the parts I hate. That's terrifying."
Eli reached out, tilting Riven's chin until their eyes met again. His voice was steady, unwavering.
"I've seen your flaws, your fears, your walls… and I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere."
The space between them shrank until Eli could feel Riven's breath against his skin.
Riven's eyes searched his face — for doubt, for hesitation, for a sign that Eli might someday turn away.
He found none.
When their lips finally met, it wasn't desperate. It wasn't rushed.
It was slow, steady — like a promise written in the language of touch.
By the time they pulled away, the rain had stopped completely.
And for the first time in a long time, Riven realized…
Maybe love wasn't about finding someone who made the storms disappear.
Maybe it was about finding someone who would stand with you, umbrella or not, until the skies cleared.
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