The rain started just after noon-light, steady, the kind that made everything feel softer. It tapped gently against Jake's windows like a rhythm only hearts in sync could hear.
They hadn't moved from the couch.
Hriva was curled into Jake's lap, his arms wrapped around her like she belonged there. Her hoodie-his hoodie-hung off one shoulder, revealing warm skin he kept grazing absentmindedly with his fingertips.
Her head rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat like it was her favorite song.
Neither of them spoke.
There was nothing to say.
Not yet.
It was the kind of silence that only came after a storm of feeling-the aftermath of tension unspoken but deeply felt. And still, it didn't feel awkward. It felt earned.
Jake finally broke the quiet. "I've never had this."
She shifted just enough to glance up at him. "Had what?"
"This," he said, voice low. "The way you look at me like I'm not broken. Like I'm not holding back pieces I don't know how to talk about yet."
Hriva's fingers traced small circles on his chest. "We all have pieces, Jake. I'm not here to fix you. Just… to know you."
His jaw clenched slightly. "What if you don't like what you find?"
She leaned in and kissed the spot just below his collarbone. Soft. Unafraid.
"Then I'll keep searching."
Jake closed his eyes. Her words sank deep, touching places even he hadn't dared explore. The kind of places you usually hide from lovers. But with Hriva, everything felt… exposed, and yet safe.
"You make it hard to keep my guard up," he whispered.
"Good," she murmured, settling back into him. "Then we're both defenseless."
They stayed there until the rain thickened.
Jake stood first, lifting her off his lap with gentle strength. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" she asked, reluctant to leave the warmth.
He held out his hand. "Trust me."
Still barefoot, he led her onto the small balcony of his apartment. It was covered, just enough to keep them dry. But the view-oh, the view. Raindrops dripped down iron railings and distant rooftops glistened like glass. The city lights below had just started to blink awake.
Jake stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.
"I always come out here when my thoughts won't settle," he said.
"And now?" Hriva asked.
"They've never been quieter."
She turned in his arms to face him.
Jake stared at her for a long time, his fingers slowly brushing her cheek. "Tell me something real."
"Real?" she echoed.
He nodded. "Something no one else knows."
Hriva bit her lip, eyes flickering with sudden vulnerability. "I… used to write love letters to no one."
Jake tilted his head.
"When I was younger," she explained. "Before I knew what love really felt like. I'd write these letters-to a person I hadn't met yet. Silly, right?"
"No," Jake said, eyes never leaving hers. "That's beautiful."
Hriva smiled, a little sad. "They were full of hope. Like I believed someone would come one day and see me. All of me."
Jake's voice dropped. "Maybe they have."
That silence returned-thicker now. He kissed her, slower this time. Less fire. More soul.
And when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. "I want to read one of those letters someday."
She smiled against his lips. "Only if you promise not to fall harder."
"No promises," he whispered. "I already am."