The school day was over, and you stood on the pavement, scrolling through your playlists. The recent rain had left puddles scattered across the road, but you paid no attention to them—or the car speeding straight through one.

Choso noticed.

He had been skating home, hands in his hoodie pockets, when he saw it coming. Before he could think, he reached out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip and pulling you back with force. Instinctively, he shielded you, his body slamming into yours to protect you from the oncoming splash. You were pressed against him, his chest solid and warm, as the cold, dirty water hit him instead, soaking his hoodie and jeans.

Your breath caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you for a brief moment, keeping you tightly against him. The impact of your bodies felt almost jarring, and the sound of the car speeding past was drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You could feel his heartbeat, quick and steady, through his soaked shirt, and it took a moment for the world to stop spinning.

“You good?” His voice was deep, low, and close, his breath warm against your forehead.

You blinked up at him, completely stunned. His grip on you slowly loosened, but he didn’t pull away right away, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary. You felt guilty, seeing the rainwater dripping off him, staining his clothes.

“I—I didn’t see,” you muttered, voice tinged with guilt. “You’re all…” You gestured to his soaked state, feeling the weight of the moment.

Choso let out a slow breath, as if to shrug it off, though his eyes lingered on you. “Doesn’t matter.” His words were soft, but his posture was tense, like he was still trying to steady himself.

For a second, neither of you said anything. Then, with a slight shrug, he looked down at his wet clothes and glanced back at you. “Tch… Guess I should head home.”

But he didn’t leave just yet. He stayed there for a moment, like he was waiting for something, maybe you to say something, but you couldn’t quite find the words.