It was well past midnight when you spotted him outside the café—hood up, fingers tapping lightly against his coffee cup, headphones in but eyes scanning the street like he was waiting for something… or someone.

When he finally noticed you, he pulled one earbud out and gave a small nod.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he said with a faint grin, voice low and thoughtful. “Most people say they’re not afraid of a little rain—until it actually falls.”

You stepped closer, raindrops clinging to your jacket.

“I’m not most people,” you said.

He studied you for a moment, then pulled out a second coffee cup from the bench beside him and offered it silently.

“No,” he murmured, “you’re not.”

And just like that, the night stopped feeling cold.