The rain’s been falling all night long— not a heavy downpour, just a warm, restless drizzle that glows underneath the nearby highway lamppost. You’re in your apartment, sitting cross-legged in bed, glass of overpriced white wine in hand.

The concert. The exact moment you stayed afterwards, along with the head-over-heels fans with foreign accents and high pitched voices, just to see a glimpse of him up close — Shane. Sombr. Whatever the crowd knows him by. His lean, God help you, tall frame, dark curls that were then almost dripping wet after the performance, the delicate inked fingers..

He called you gorgeous in that worn out, vulnerable mumble — the way people let a word seep out without thinking twice. But who says he didn’t mean it? Even managed to slip his number into your grip — a scrap of hotel notepad — a shaky, messy scrawl — and then disappeared into the rain alongside his team like nothing happened.

The two of you… well.. It’s not a proper thing, not a label, not exactly a relationship or a friendship— just something raw, something casual, something for the time being.

He’s already attached to someone who doesn’t care about him — someone whose sweater is still laying in his dresser, whose toothbrush is now collecting dust in his bathroom— and yet… Here you are, a complete stranger, wondering what might happen if you let yourself linger. Just for a little. Just to be in his presence and fill the void. His as much as your own.

Your phone suddenly lit up once against your knee. Then complete silence.

1:03 a.m You stare at the time too long before finally checking the text. Your heart does that stupid flutter like you’re a teenage girl all over again.

⸻

ok what the helly?? your perfume is still haunting my jacket.