It rained the next day.
Not the soft kind that people wrote poetry about. It was the kind of rain that made the sky look like it was mourning something, and everyone rushed to stay dry — except for Aki.
He stood by the school gate, umbrella in hand, eyes fixed on the street beyond. His uniform pants were slightly damp near the hem. His fingers clutched the umbrella handle like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Haru was late.
Which was unusual.
Aki had gotten used to his loud "Sorry!"s and the way Haru would arrive breathless, as if running from some invisible deadline. But today, the air felt quiet.
And then—
"Aki!"
Haru came sprinting down the street, his hair soaked, no umbrella in sight.
"What happened to your umbrella?" Aki asked, raising his own instinctively.
"I forgot," Haru grinned, breathing heavily. "But I made it."
Aki sighed and tilted the umbrella, pulling Haru closer under it. "You're drenched."
"Warm welcome," Haru muttered, teeth chattering a little.
They started walking, close under the shared umbrella. Their shoulders bumped once, then again, before finally just staying there—pressed together like the storm had pushed them into alignment.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Haru asked, "Hey… about yesterday."
Aki blinked. "What about it?"
"You weren't weirded out by me being jealous?"
Aki didn't answer immediately.
Then, softly, "I wasn't."
Haru looked at him, a little startled. "Why not?"
"Because," Aki said, "you're the only person who makes me feel like I'm part of something… now."
Haru stared at him.
Aki kept walking.
---
They ended up at a quiet café tucked away in a narrow street. The windows fogged up slightly from the warmth inside, and Haru wrung out his sleeves by the entrance while Aki ordered two hot chocolates.
"I feel like I'm in a romance movie," Haru said, flopping into the seat opposite Aki. "You know, the brooding boy and the idiot who forgets his umbrella."
"You're not an idiot," Aki said.
Haru blinked. "Wow. High praise from you."
"I meant you're reckless. Not dumb."
"Gee, thanks," Haru laughed.
The drinks arrived, and silence fell between them — not the uncomfortable kind, but the kind that felt full of things unspoken. Aki stirred his drink slowly, eyes downcast.
Then he said, "Kaito messaged me."
Haru tensed.
Aki continued, "He said he's leaving again. Just came by to visit before transferring abroad."
"…Oh."
"He also said he hopes we're happy."
Haru blinked. "Wait—we?"
Aki nodded.
Haru leaned back in his chair, processing that. "Well damn… I guess he did notice."
There was a pause.
Then Haru added, "You are happy, right?"
Aki met his gaze for a moment. The sound of rain tapped softly against the windows.
"I don't know what happiness is supposed to feel like," Aki said honestly. "But when I'm with you… it feels easier to breathe."
Haru's mouth parted slightly.
Then, with a crooked grin: "Guess that's your way of saying yes."
Aki looked away, ears slightly pink.
Haru reached across the table, fingers brushing Aki's for a second — light, unsure.
Aki didn't pull away.
---
Later that night, Aki stood by his window, listening to the rain that hadn't stopped since morning.
He opened his journal.
> I didn't think it'd feel like this.
Not loud or dramatic.
Just… steady.
Like rain that doesn't stop — soft, but impossible to ignore.
Haru makes me feel like I'm still changing.
And somehow, that's okay.
Kaito left quietly.
But Haru…
He's staying.
And written in binary, tucked at the bottom:
> 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01100110 01100001 01101100 01101100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101000 01101001 01101101