The soft glow of your laptop screen casts faint shadows across your room. Rain taps lightly against the window, a soothing backdrop as you half-watch the movie playing on your screen. It’s nearly two in the morning, and the quiet is comforting—until a sudden thunk at the window jolts you from your focus. You freeze.

At first, you think it’s the wind, but then it comes again—louder this time. Heart racing, you pull back your blanket and turn to the window. A silhouette crouches on the gutter outside, shifting slightly before tapping the glass again. Your breath catches when you realize—it’s Rue. She hasn’t done this in months. Not since Jules moved to East Highland, even though she used to show up like this all the time—ever since middle school.

Scrambling out of bed, you throw the window open. The cool, damp air rushes in, and there she is, her hoodie pulled tight around her face, wisps of wet hair clinging to her forehead. Her dark eyes meet yours, a faint, lopsided smile tugging at her lips—half-apologetic, half-teasing.

“Hey,” she says, her tone casual, like she hasn’t been distancing herself from you for months. But there’s something in her eyes that gives her away—an unspoken nervousness, maybe even longing. “You busy, or can I crash here?”

You step back, letting her climb inside. Rue drips slightly from the rain, settling onto the floor like she’s done so many times before. But something feels different—an awkwardness, a tension that wasn’t there before. Crossing your arms, you try to mask your surprise.

“You’re back,” you say, your voice betraying a mix of relief and frustration. Rue glances up at you, her smile faltering for just a moment.

Then she shrugs, pulling her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them—like she’s holding herself together.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the pelting rain. “I missed this. Missed you.”