The rain came out of nowhere.
One minute it was a warm, cloudy afternoon. The next, it was a full-on downpour—angry, vertical, dramatic-as-hell rain that slapped the pavement like it had something to prove.
Noa stood at the studio's front entrance, arms crossed, watching the sheets of water like they had personally wronged her.
And of course, just as she was debating whether to make a run for it, she heard it:
"Miss me?"
She turned.
Ren, still pale but slightly more alive, stood beside her in his usual hoodie—this time with an umbrella in hand. He looked smug. Smug and sniffly.
"I thought you were dying," she said.
"Still am. Just vertical now."
"Why are you here?"
He shrugged. "Bored. And you looked miserable on the group chat, so."
"I did not."
"You sent a period."
"…So?"
"Just a single dot. That's basically an SOS from you."
Noa rolled her eyes. "You came all the way here because of my punctuation?"
"And because I brought an umbrella."
She raised an eyebrow. "You only have one."
Ren nodded. "So... either we share, or you get pneumonia."
"I'm not walking that close to you."
"You'll change your mind in thirty seconds."
He stepped forward, opened the umbrella, and tilted it just enough to cover her half.
She hesitated.
Then sighed.
"…Fine."
—
The walk was short, but it felt long for all the wrong reasons.
The umbrella was too small.
Their arms kept bumping.
Ren's shoulder was warm, and she hated how she noticed.
He kept his hand loose around the umbrella handle, but every time their fingers brushed, she tensed.
"Relax," he said.
"I *am* relaxed."
"You're walking like a robot."
"It's called personal space."
"There *is* no space."
"Exactly my point."
He chuckled, and she hated how much she liked that sound.
—
They stopped at the train station. Still raining. Still sharing too much air.
Ren looked down at her. "Hey."
"What."
"I missed this."
Noa blinked. "Missed what?"
"You being annoyed at me in person."
She scoffed. "I'm always annoyed at you."
"Yeah," he said, smiling a little. "It's nice."
Her train arrived, the doors sliding open with a hiss.
Noa hesitated.
Then stepped in without looking back.
Ren didn't follow.
As the train pulled away, she caught his reflection on the window—still standing in the rain, umbrella half-open, smiling like an idiot.
And for the first time… she didn't feel like going home.