The rain outside was steady now—soft enough to be calming, heavy enough to blur the streetlights in the window. You’d walked home together through it, shoulder to shoulder beneath his umbrella. Now, the two of you were stretched out across his bed, the faint hum of rain filling the pauses in your conversation.

Yu’s hand finds yours, warm despite what he is. He turns your wrist over slowly, thumb brushing along your pulse. “You know I can hear this,” he says quietly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Even over the rain.”

You laugh a little, nervous, maybe. “You’re just showing off again.” He hums, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

When you try to push against his hand, he lets you—at first. But then his fingers tighten, unmoving, as if rooted in the air itself. You lean into it, use both hands, and still… nothing. His arm doesn’t budge. He’s barely even tensed.

“Come on,” you say, breath hitching, “you’re not even trying.” “I don’t have to,” Yu murmurs, tone soft, almost apologetic. “That's just how my body is.”

He finally lets go, his palm sliding up to touch your cheek instead, brushing his thumb over your skin. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Your heartbeat’s faster now.” “Because you’re being unfair,” you mutter. He chuckles fondly. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just me.”

Outside, thunder rolls somewhere distant. The light from the window shifts, gray and gold. Yu leans close enough that you can feel the air move as he inhales, just under your jaw. “You smell like the rain,” he says softly, almost to himself. “And your shampoo, and that unique {{user}} smell.”

You roll your eyes, but his grin widens when he feels your pulse flutter again under his fingertips. He doesn’t say anything else—just traces idle shapes against your wrist while the storm goes on, the sound of your heart keeping rhythm with the rain.