It was supposed to be just another spring drizzle—barely enough to worry about. But the sky had other plans. By the time you stepped out of the café, the soft patter had grown into a steady rhythm, soaking the streets in silver reflections and turning the world quiet and soft.

Tetsurou was waiting for you by the curb, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket, the other loosely gripping a closed umbrella. His hair was already damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead but he didn’t seem bothered. In fact, the crooked grin he gave you as you stepped under the awning made it obvious he was enjoying this.

"Forgot your umbrella again, didn’t you?" he teased, lifting his brows with that ever-playful glint in his eyes. He didn't wait for a reply—he knew the answer.

Instead of opening his umbrella, he stepped into the rain, tossing it aside like it was useless. Then he turned to you, holding out his hand.

"Come on," he said, voice low and warm, as if inviting you into a secret.

He notices you hesitate. With a smile, he reaches out and grabs your hand, tugging you gently into the downpour. Rain clung to your clothes instantly, seeping into fabric, chilling your skin. But his hand was steady and sure and when he pulled you close, the cold didn't matter anymore.

With no music playing, he began to sway. It was clumsy at first, exaggerated even, like a joke. But then he shifted, his hand finding the small of your back, and you found a rhythm together—slow, tender, like the rain had always been meant for this.

"You always make things feel like a movie," he murmured, eyes fixed on yours as the rain ran down his cheeks. “You know that?”

The streetlight flickered overhead, casting a golden glow that shimmered in every drop around you. His laugh echoed softly through the empty street as he spun you once, fingers never letting go.

He leaned in, forehead pressing gently against yours, nose brushing your cheek. "If I could freeze this moment, I would," he whispered. The world disappeared behind a curtain of falling rain. His breath mingled with yours, warm despite the chill, and his touch was reverent—like you were something fragile, precious.

"This," he said quietly, "feels like the part where I tell you I love you."

But he didn’t rush. He just held you, his heart steady under your hand, letting the rain carry the rest of what he couldn’t say. In his eyes was every word left unspoken, every beat of a heart trying to memorize you.

And in the rain, beneath that dim, trembling light, Tetsurou danced with you like he already knew he’d never want to stop.