It was dark out, the kind of dark that felt heavy. Rain was already falling in sheets, and lightning kept tearing across the sky like someone ripping paper.

And you were here—soaked, breathless—with your best friend.

After rugby practice, Johnny had insisted on walking you home. “It’s late,” he’d said, tossing his bag over his shoulder. “Not letting you walk alone.” You’d rolled your eyes, but you hadn’t fought him on it.

Then the rain had started.

“Of course,” Johnny muttered as the first cold drops hit his face. He grabbed your wrist with a laugh. “Come on! Run!”

You both sprinted down the sidewalk, shoes slapping against the wet pavement, until you dove into the nearest bus shelter. Water dripped from your clothes, pooling on the concrete as you bent over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

Johnny shook his head like a dog, sending droplets everywhere. “Hey!” you laughed. He grinned. “What? You’re already soaked.”

You dropped into a squat on the bench’s edge, still breathless, your heart racing from more than just the run. Johnny stepped in front of you, then crouched down too, elbows resting loosely on his knees.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The sound of rain pattering against the shelter and distant thunder filled the space between you.

When you finally looked up, his eyes were already on you.

You blinked. “What?” “Nothing,” he said quickly, then softened. “Just… making sure you’re okay.”

But it wasn’t just that. Something in his gaze held you in place. Something warm. Something you’d never seen in him before—not directed at you, anyway.

Lightning flashed, illuminating his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the drops of water clinging to his lashes. He didn’t look away.

Your chest tightened. “Johnny,” you whispered, unsure of what you were asking.

He swallowed, his voice low. “I… I didn’t think you’d look back at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you see me.”

Another rumble of thunder shook the shelter. The world outside kept flashing white, rain falling harder, but Johnny didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on yours, steady and unguarded.

There were a million words unspoken in that look—questions, confessions, fear, hope.

But only one word seemed to echo between you, louder than the storm, louder than your heartbeat.

And he seemed to be holding it on his lips, waiting.