It was after band practice, the halls still humming faintly with echoes of guitars and laughter. The others had already gone home, leaving only the faint scent of dust and rain in the air. Sunset and you stepped out into the open, the sky above heavy and low, a dim gray that made the streetlights flicker on far too early.

The drizzle began softly, almost like it was testing the ground, but within seconds it had turned into a relentless downpour. Sunset gave a quiet, rueful laugh — the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes — and muttered something about leaving her jacket in her locker. Without another word, you two broke into a run, shoes splashing through shallow puddles until you ducked under the side awning of the school.

Rain hammered against the metal roof, filling the air with a low, constant roar. Sunset shook her hair out, scattering droplets that caught the light like tiny sparks. She leaned back against the brick wall, her gaze fixed on the curtain of water just beyond the edge of the shelter.

“You ever notice how quiet the world gets when it’s really pouring?” she said at last, her voice soft, almost thoughtful. “Like… everything else just stops.”

There was something distant in her expression, as if the rain had pulled her somewhere far away in her mind. She didn’t move, didn’t glance over — just kept watching the streets shimmer under the streetlamps. Her voice was calm when she spoke again, but there was an undercurrent there, a note that didn’t quite match the weather.

“I’m fine,” she murmured after a pause, answering an unspoken question. “Just… thinking about stuff. The kind of stuff that’s easier to keep to yourself.”

For a moment she stood in silence, the rain filling all the empty space between words. Then, almost to herself, she added, “But… maybe I don’t have to.”

The world outside stayed blurred and silver, the air cool and still under the awning. Whatever was on her mind, it wasn’t just the storm.