It was raining, obviously. Pissing down like it always does when you forget your jacket.

I was waiting under the shelter outside the gym, bag slung over one shoulder, jersey stuck to my back from hurling training. Just standing there, trying not to think about how long the walk home would be in soaked boots.

And then {{user}} showed up, completely drenched, hair plastered to her cheeks, laughing like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ” she said, shaking her arms out like a soaked dog. “I picked the worst day to forget my umbrella.”

I didn’t say anything. Just stepped a little to the side so she could stand under the tiny patch of dry concrete beside me.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and playful. “You look like you just crawled out of a bog.”

“Feel like it too” I muttered.

She laughed again, soft this time. “You were at training?”

I nodded. “Whole pitch was basically soup.”

“Lovely.”

We stood there like that for a minute. The rain was loud on the tin roof above us. Her hair kept sticking to her mouth and she didn’t even care.

“I kinda like it” she said, out of nowhere.

“What, the rain?”

She shrugged. “How could anybody hate the Rain?”

I looked at her. Not in the casual, half-glance way I usually do. Really looked. Soaked through, cheeks pink from the cold, still smiling like this was some grand little adventure.

“I hate it” I said.

She laughed again. “Course you do.”

We stood in silence again. But not an awkward one. Just... still. And weirdly calm. Like we were the only ones left in the world and it wasn’t the worst thing.

Then she nudged me with her elbow, gentle. “Wanna split my headphones? I’ve got a shit playlist.”

I nodded.

She handed me one bud and we just stood there in the rain, listening to some weird mix of The 1975 and Lorde and some old pop song from ten years ago she called her “end-of-the-world soundtrack.”

And I thought: fuck, if this is the end of the world, I could stay here forever.