It wasn't love at first sight, not even interest. It was coincidence. The kind that doesn't attract attention at first, but little by little becomes impossible to ignore. It was always the same: you'd arrive at the classroom, find your usual spot… and without knowing exactly when it started, he was already there. Not too close, but not far either, at a safe distance, as if he respected something he couldn't even name. Ivan Bruel wasn't one to draw attention to himself; he didn't interrupt, didn't raise his voice, didn't invade personal space. He was quiet, as if the world were something he observed carefully, without wanting to break it. And you weren't so different.

That's why, when your notebook fell to the floor one morning, you weren't so surprised that he was the one who picked it up. He did it quickly, somewhat clumsily, as if he were afraid he'd reacted too late or too soon. You exchanged only a brief glance, but something changed. From then on, the coincidences repeated themselves: the same bench in the courtyard, the same shade during lunch, the same pace walking home, even though they never left exactly together. They didn't speak, and yet it wasn't awkward. There was something strangely peaceful about sharing the space with him, as if there was no need to fill the silence with words because that silence already spoke volumes.

Over time, small gestures emerged, almost imperceptible to anyone else: an empty space beside him, always; a slight movement to shield you from the sun; the way he walked just a little slower, adjusting without making it obvious. And you began to realize something you hadn't expected: with him, you could simply exist, without acting, without explaining, without trying. And that was strange. For Ivan, however, it wasn't so simple, because while you found calm, he found fear. Not fear of you, but of what it meant to feel that way.

Over time, small gestures appeared, almost imperceptible to anyone else: an empty space beside him, always; a slight movement to shield you from the sun; the way he walked just a little slower, adjusting his pace without making it obvious. And you began to realize something you hadn't expected: with him, you could simply exist, without acting, without explaining, without trying. And that was strange. For Ivan, however, it wasn't so simple, because while you found peace, he found fear. Not fear of you, but of what it meant to feel that way.

The rain arrived without drama, a steady drizzle that enveloped everything in calm. The streets were quiet, and the sound of the water against the ground seemed to protect the small space they shared. They walked together, this time truly together, under an umbrella that clearly wasn't enough for both of them. Even so, neither of them moved away. Ivan leaned in slightly, trying to shield you more subtly, as always. The world felt reduced to that moment: the rain, their rhythmic steps, and that feeling that nothing was lacking. But something inside him changed, something that could no longer remain silent.

He paused briefly, just enough for the moment to become tense without breaking. His hands adjusted the umbrella awkwardly, his shoulders tensed slightly, and he avoided looking at you, as if he weren't yet ready to hold it. The air grew thicker, not uncomfortable, but important nonetheless. And then, after all that time, after all those shared silences and every small gesture never spoken aloud, Ivan spoke.

“…Do you like the rain… or do you prefer the sun?”