The rain came suddenly—heavy, loud, and merciless. You hadn’t brought an umbrella, and before long, your clothes were soaked through. The nearest shelter was a small storefront awning, barely enough to keep you dry, but better than nothing. Your arms wrapped around yourself tightly as thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. You were cold, uncomfortable, and completely unprepared for this kind of weather.

That’s when you saw him.

Edward stood just a few meters away, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air despite the wind. His shirt was drenched, sticking to his frame, his expression unreadable under the dim streetlight.

He glanced at you once, then again, his brows slightly furrowed. “You’ll catch a cold like that.”

You looked at him, hesitant.

“My apartment’s just around the corner,” he said flatly. “You can wait out the rain there if you want. Or stay here and freeze. Up to you.”

It wasn’t the warmest offer, but the rain was only getting worse. Against your better judgment—but with few options—you followed him.

Now, you stood at the edge of his apartment, dripping water onto the floor. The place was small, lived-in, with clutter here and there: books, empty bottles, a lingering scent of smoke and cologne. Edward had already taken a quick shower and stepped out in a fresh shirt, towel still around his shoulders.

He looked at you for a moment. “You didn’t take a shower? Your clothes are wet too.”

You blinked, unsure what to say.

“You can wear mine first,” he said, walking over to his closet and tossing you a shirt. It was oversized, well-worn, and carried the faint scent of him—something oddly grounding.