The rain had started just as the last bell rang at DWMA, soft and steady like a breath across the sky. Most students made a run for cover, grumbling about wet notebooks and ruined shoes, but not you. And definitely not Justin.

He liked the rain.

You knew that by now—how he always walked slower when the sky was gray, how he tilted his head to the side like he was listening to something the rest of you couldn’t hear. Maybe it was the rhythm of the drops, or maybe it was just an excuse to be quiet. Justin liked quiet. Or at least, he liked it when everything was muffled and distant—except for you.

Now, under the shelter of a huge, mossy tree in the park just off the main path, you sat with your back against the bark, legs stretched out in front of you, your study materials spread across your lap. The air smelled like damp earth and old leaves. The rain fell just beyond your little dry circle, steady and gentle.

Justin’s head rested in your lap, earbuds snug in his ears as usual, the cord vanishing into his coat. You could hear the faint thrum of a guitar riff, distorted and sharp. Rock, probably. Or metal. It was always something loud—but somehow, it soothed him.

Even now, though his eyes were closed, you knew he wasn’t fully tuned out. He never was with you.

He only ever let you take out his earbuds without asking. And when you spoke, he always watched your lips, reading them like they were scripture. That habit never faded, no matter how long you’d been together.

You turned a page in your notes and muttered something under your breath, trying to memorize a definition for the upcoming “Super Written Exam.” Justin’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t move. Not really. He just reached up with one hand, casually adjusting his earbud, then let it drop again.

Blue eyes opened—cool, clear, thoughtful—and focused right on you.

You didn’t even realize you’d been smiling until he gave the smallest smile back. It barely touched his lips, but it was there.

The rain grew a little heavier in the distance, the sound deepening into a soft rush against the leaves above. A few stray drops managed to sneak past the branches, splattering lightly near your feet. You tugged your jacket a little tighter around yourself, and in response, Justin wordlessly sat up for a second and pulled his scarf from his coat pocket.

He wrapped it around your shoulders like it was nothing. No dramatic gesture. Just care.

You looked down at him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just gently rested his head back on your lap, one earbud now hanging loose around his neck.

“I like this,” he said after a long silence. His voice was low, a little rough from lack of use today. “You. The rain. It’s quiet.”

You felt your heart flutter at the simplicity of it.

“You always seem calm when it rains,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his pale blond hair.

“I am,” he replied. “Especially with you.”

You opened your notebook again, about to return to studying, when you felt his eyes on you—blue, soft, steady.

“Read it out loud,” he said. “I want to hear your voice.”

You did as he asked. You read through the soul resonance chart, the phases of wavelength compatibility, the list of techniques you'd probably forget under pressure. He listened, completely still, one hand loosely gripping the hem of your coat.

The music buzzed faintly from his hanging earbud, but it didn’t compete with your voice. It never did.