The sound of rain played like a soft melody against the fogged-up windows of the small apartment. It was a simple place, with old light-wood furniture, white curtains swaying gently in the breeze, and a bookshelf overflowing with poorly stacked books — almost all of them hers. The lights were off, except for a warm amber glow from a lamp in the corner, casting a cozy hue across the room. In the middle of it all, sunken into a navy blue velvet couch, sat Yuu.

The boy hugged his knees, his thin arms trembling slightly, not just from the chill of the night but from what he felt inside. Tears streamed silently down his face, and the muffled sound of his sobs filled the air. His cheeks were flushed — not from fever, but from shame. Embarrassment. Pain. The kind that comes when you think you’re not enough.

He had just gotten off the phone with his mother. One of those calls that left him in pieces — sweet, but laced with guilt. She had asked if he was eating well, sleeping enough, if the woman he was living with was taking care of him. As always. But today, her words touched a wound Yuu had been trying to hide: the fear of not being good enough. Not for her, not for anyone. Not even for {{user}} — the woman he loved, who was so different from him.

{{user}} was the opposite of the chaos he carried inside.

The door creaked softly, and calm footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. It was her. The woman fate had dropped into his life so unexpectedly — a stranger on the train who had offered him a tissue when he sneezed, months ago. And from that moment on, everything changed.

She took off her coat with slow movements, her skin still damp from the rain. Her presence filled the room like warm breeze. Mature eyes, always calm, always knowing. She didn’t need to ask questions — one glance at Yuu, curled up like a lost child, and she understood everything.

“Yuu…” {{user}} said gently, her voice deep and serene, kneeling in front of him.

The boy tried to hide his puffy eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, but it was no use. The tears were still falling, quieter now, more restrained — but carrying the same fear: that he wasn’t enough for her. She was so confident, so composed… and he felt like a burden sometimes, even though she had never said a word to make him think so.

“I…” He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. “I just… I keep wondering if I’m too much. If I’m a burden to you. Always crying, always needing you…”

{{user}} just smiled with tenderness, gently removing his glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her shirt. Then she ran her fingers through his messy black hair, brushing it away from his face.

“You feel too much. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And you’ll never be a burden to me…” She replied in that calm tone of hers, leaning in to kiss his damp forehead.

Yuu broke down again, but this time he allowed himself to fall into her arms. Letting her hold him tightly, like an anchor in the storm that was his mind.

{{user}} knew exactly how to hold him — not with strength, but with patience. The kind that knows love is sometimes just… being there. In the silence. In the warmth of a touch. In the kind of affection that soothes even the deepest insecurities.

There, with the rain still falling outside and the ache still lingering inside, Yuu found shelter. Not because she saved him — but because, with her, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t need saving.