The sky had turned slate gray long before the last bell rang. Rain fell in steady sheets, washing the city in muted silver, drumming relentlessly on rooftops and pavement. The scent of wet concrete and the faint tang of ozone filled the air, and for once, the usual chaos of the school felt distant, muffled by the storm.
Arka stood at the edge of the rooftop, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the downpour below. His hair was plastered to his forehead, sleeves soaked through, but he didn't move. Not until the door clicked behind him.
Bayu stepped onto the wet rooftop, hesitating for the briefest moment. He didn't usually climb up here. Not unless he was chasing some ridiculous dare from Arka, or avoiding someone else entirely. Tonight, though, he didn't hesitate.
"You're… already here," Bayu said, voice careful, carrying just enough weight to slice through the rain.
Arka didn't turn. "I could say the same." His voice carried a joke, but it was thin, stretched over something far heavier than teasing.
Bayu stepped closer, careful not to splash too much, but the rain didn't care. It soaked through both of them, running cold along their skin, and yet neither moved to shield themselves. Silence stretched, the kind of silence that fills a space with tension so thick it's almost tangible.
Finally, Arka exhaled, voice quieter, stripped of its usual flair. "You ever wonder why I'm always like this?" His hand gestured vaguely at himself, at the chaos, the jokes, the endless noise he wrapped himself in like armor. "Why I can't just be serious sometimes? Why it's easier to fill the air with laughter than with…" He trailed off, shaking his head, frustration sharpening each word.
Bayu didn't answer. He only waited, letting the rain paint patterns across Arka's face.
Arka's voice cracked slightly this time, almost swallowed by the storm. "Because seriousness scares people away. People don't stay when you stop performing. They think you're too much, too loud, too real. And so I hide. I hide behind jokes, behind games, behind every ridiculous thing I can think of because it's safer."
The wind caught his words, scattering them across the rooftop. Bayu stepped closer, until the space between them was minimal. His eyes searched Arka's face, seeing past the rain, past the carefully constructed armor of laughter.
"I wouldn't leave," Bayu said quietly. Steady. Unflinching.
Arka's eyes flicked up, catching his gaze. Something in him wavered, a small crack in the mask, the first hint of vulnerability he let anyone see. "You… you don't get it," he murmured. "Most people… they don't stay. They run from storms. From chaos. From me."
Bayu lifted a hand, letting the rain drip from his fingers. "I'm not most people," he said simply. "I wouldn't run. Not from you."
Arka laughed, low and humorless, letting the sound slide into the rain. "That's what makes it worse," he said. "Because I… I don't know what to do with someone who actually stays. Someone who doesn't leave when it gets messy. When it gets loud. When it gets me."
Bayu didn't retreat. Didn't flinch. "Then maybe you don't have to hide from me anymore."
Arka's shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his body releasing in slow, careful increments. The storm wrapped around them, relentless but strangely intimate, like a mirror of everything they had never said.
"You're…" Arka's voice caught, almost strangled by emotion, almost drowned by the rain. "You're impossible. You don't understand. I've… I've trained myself for chaos, for distance, for being alone. And now… you're standing here. You shouldn't be. It's… dangerous."
Bayu shook his head. "I'm not afraid. Not of you. Not of this." He gestured broadly to the rooftop, the rain, everything between them. "I'm here, Arka. I'm staying."
Arka swallowed, lips parted, eyes unguarded for the first time in what felt like forever. The storm around them didn't soften. It didn't pause. But in the middle of it, two people stood closer than they had ever dared before, hearts raw and unshielded, facing the silence that had built for months.