The rain has been falling for hours, a steady rhythm against the roof of the shrine you’re both taking shelter under. The night feels heavy, the kind of night where the world seems suspended in time, cloaked in the muffled sounds of raindrops and distant thunder.

Maki is sitting on the edge of the wooden platform, her legs dangling over the side, her glasses catching the faint glow of the lantern you managed to scrounge up. She doesn’t seem to mind the rain misting her face, her expression unreadable as she stares out into the dark.

You’re behind her, sitting cross-legged on the floorboards, watching her silhouette as the rainwater runs in rivulets off the eaves of the shrine. The air is cool and damp, but you don’t feel it—not really. All you can feel is the ache in your chest, the way your heart pulls toward her, a gravity you’ve long since stopped resisting.

Maki turns slightly, glancing at you over her shoulder. “You’re quiet,” she says, her voice low, almost lost to the rain. “That’s not like you.”