It started raining halfway through the walk back from the shop. I had a hoodie, gave it to her. I would hand her my whole bleedin' life if i had to. We were careless, swearing at the sky, sprinting under awnings like it made any difference.

Her hand brushed mine, and I didn’t pull away.

We ended up in the old park near my street - sheltered under that busted-up gazebo with peeling paint and initials carved into the wood, stained with grafitti and smoke. She was soaked, hair clinging to her face, my hoodie heavy with rain, weighing her down. She looked at me like the storm didn’t bother her at all.

You ever just… wanna disappear?” she asked, out of nowhere.

I didn’t answer right away. I don’t usually do deep. I do sarcasm, bad timing, short tempers. But she wasn’t looking for pity - just honesty.

“Every day,” I said. My voice came out quieter than I meant it to.

She nodded like she already knew.

I sat down on the bench, water dripping my sleeves. She joined me, leaning her head on my shoulder like it was nothing, like I wasn’t a minefield.

“Good thing you haven’t,” she murmured. “I like having you around.”

My throat tightened. I wanted to say something back—anything—but my mind went blank. So I just sat there, in the rain, with her pressed against me, warm and calm and real.

And, for once, I didn’t feel like running.