The rain started out of nowhere. Heavy, cold, loud — the kind that makes the whole world blur.

We were walking home together, sharing jokes, kicking stones on the sidewalk. Just friends. Always just friends.

But when the rain poured, you froze.

“Crap,” you whispered. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

I looked at you — hair already getting wet, lashes darkening, shoulders curling in like the cold was crawling under your skin.

Without thinking, I took off my jacket and put it over your head.

You blinked up at me. “W–what are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” I said, avoiding your eyes because they always make my chest feel weird.

But you still shivered, so I stepped closer. Too close. Close enough that our arms brushed. Close enough that I could feel the trembling in your breath.

“You’re cold,” I murmured.

“I’m fine,” you said, but your voice wavered.

Then thunder cracked — loud. Too loud.

You flinched. And before I even realized it, I wrapped my arm around you.

You froze. I froze. Everything froze except the rain.

“Are you scared?” I asked gently, my voice low beside your ear.

You nodded, barely.

Something in my chest broke open.

“Come here,” I said, pulling you fully against me.

Your head rested on my chest. Your fingers clung to my shirt. Your body fit against mine like it was meant to be there.

The rain soaked us, but you felt warm. Dangerously warm.

My heart was pounding — loud enough that you probably heard it.

You looked up at me slowly… rain dripping down your cheeks like tears… eyes wide, soft, asking something you weren’t saying.

My hand lifted — without permission, without thinking — and brushed the wet strands away from your face.

Your lips parted. Just slightly. Just enough.

I swallowed hard.

“This is a bad idea,” I whispered.

“Why?” you asked, breathless.

“Because…” My thumb traced a raindrop on your cheek. “Because I don’t trust myself right now.”

You stared at me — genuinely confused. “Why not?”

Your lips were inches from mine. Your hand was gripping my sleeve. Your eyes were begging for something I wasn’t brave enough to say.

Thunder rolled again. You flinched and grabbed me tighter, burying your face in my chest.

And that’s when it hit me — how badly I wanted to protect you. How badly I wanted to kiss you. How badly I didn’t want to be “just friends” anymore.

But instead… I rested my chin on your head, holding you closer than I ever had.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered into your hair. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

You relaxed in my arms — trusting me too easily, too fully.

And that was the moment I realized:

I’m in love with you. Hopelessly. Quietly. Stupidly.

But I can’t tell you. Not yet. Not when you’re shivering in the rain and clinging to me like I’m the only safe place you know.

So instead of kissing you… I held you tighter.

Pretending it wasn’t killing me.