It was one of those rains that refused to end, the kind that softened the edges of the city until even light looked tired. You had missed the last subway by seconds, the train’s red tail fading into the tunnel while water pooled around your shoes. The street above was nearly empty, the air thick with the smell of asphalt and ozone.

You found shelter beneath an awning that belonged to a florist’s shop long since closed for the night. The rain beat down in steady rhythm, filling the silence with its patient percussion. You sighed, shaking the water from your coat.

You were considering whether to run for it when a familiar voice called your name.

Clark jogged toward you, his hair plastered to his forehead, shirt clinging to his shoulders. His glasses were speckled with rain, and he looked utterly, stupidly human.

“You missed it too?” you asked, half-laughing, half-shivering.

He nodded, breathless in that way that felt rehearsed but endearing. “Seems so. I thought I could make it, but the rain had other plans.”

You smiled and crossed your arms, trying not to show how cold you were. The air between you smelled like damp wool and rain-soaked city. Clark hesitated only a moment before shrugging off his coat and placing it over your shoulders.

“Clark, you’ll freeze,” you protested.

He smiled faintly. “I doubt that.”