The storm raged outside, sheets of rain lashing against the windows, wind howling through the narrow streets.
Ryuzí sat at his desk, homework open but forgotten. His head hung low, dark hair shadowing his eyes as his hand trembled over the paper. His chest felt like it was caving in, every breath tight, shallow.
The silence mocked him.
The storm outside mocked him.
Everything mocked him.
"...I can't take this anymore," he whispered hoarsely, gripping his pen until it cracked. Ink bled across the page, smearing under his fist.
His throat burned. His vision blurred. The ache that had been simmering all week finally broke, spilling over like the storm outside.
I don't want space. I don't want quiet. I want him.
The thought struck like lightning, sharp and terrifying.
He shoved his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. His body moved before his mind caught up. He grabbed his hoodie, yanked it over his head, and stormed into the rain.
The city blurred under the downpour. Neon lights streaked like watercolor, puddles splashed under his shoes as he ran. His breath came ragged, his chest heaving, but he didn't stop.
He knew exactly where he needed to go.
The bakery.
The place that smelled of sugar and warmth, where Suki's laughter lingered in the air, where his sisters teased from behind the counter. The place where sunshine lived.
Through the rain-smeared glass, Ryuzí saw them — Suki and his sisters tidying the last trays, wiping counters, preparing to close.
Suki laughed at something Rika said, his voice bright even through the storm. That sound — the one Ryuzí had missed, ached for, longed for — pierced through the roar of rain like a lifeline.
Before he knew it, he was pushing the door open, the bell jingling weakly above.
Suki turned instantly. "Ryuzí?!"
His eyes widened at the sight of him — drenched to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, hoodie dripping onto the floor.
"What are you—why are you—"
Ryuzí didn't let him finish. His feet moved, his hands clenched, and in the next second, he had crossed the distance and pulled Suki into his arms.
The umbrella in Suki's hand clattered to the ground.
"Ryuzí—"
"Don't," Ryuzí muttered, voice breaking against his shoulder. His fists clutched the back of Suki's shirt desperately. "Don't leave me."
Suki froze, his breath caught in his throat. "...I wasn't—"
"I can't stand it," Ryuzí choked, his body trembling. Rainwater seeped from his clothes into Suki's, cold against warmth. His voice cracked like thunder. "I can't stand you being distant. I don't want space. I don't want quiet. I just—" His throat closed, words spilling out in broken fragments. "I want you."
For a moment, the world seemed to hold still. Only the storm outside moved, the rain hammering against the glass, the wind rattling the shutters.
Suki's heart pounded. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around Ryuzí, holding him just as tightly. His voice trembled. "...I wasn't leaving you. I thought maybe you needed space."
Ryuzí's fists clenched tighter in his shirt. "I don't want space. I don't want distance." His voice broke again, raw and unguarded. "...I like you, Suki. I've tried to bury it, tried to push it away, but when you pulled back—it hurt. It hurt more than anything."
The words cracked him open, spilling like the storm. His chest heaved, his eyes burned, but the truth was out at last.
Across the counter, Emi and Hana froze mid-task. They exchanged looks, wide-eyed, then quietly grabbed Rika and pulled her toward the back.
"Give them space," Hana murmured.
Emi smirked faintly, whispering, "About damn time."
Suki's eyes stung. He laughed softly, watery, shaking his head. "...You idiot."
Ryuzí stiffened.
Suki tightened his hold, burying his face against Ryuzí's wet hoodie. "...You're my idiot. And I'm not going anywhere."
Ryuzí's breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully as he clung harder. His walls, his silence, his defenses — all of it shattered, and Suki caught every broken piece.
"...Don't," Ryuzí whispered again, voice hoarse. "...Don't leave me."
"I won't," Suki murmured fiercely. "Never."
They stood there in the middle of the bakery, soaked and trembling, while the storm raged outside.
For the first time, Ryuzí allowed himself to need someone. To want someone. And for the first time, he wasn't met with rejection, but with arms pulling him closer.
Later, when the rain eased, they walked home under one umbrella.
Suki tilted it carefully over Ryuzí's head, though he was taller. "See? You don't have to cry over me. I'm not going anywhere."
Ryuzí muttered, his ears pink. "...Don't talk about it."
Suki grinned, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Fine. Then I'll just say this — next time, you don't have to wait until you're soaked and crying to tell me how you feel."
Ryuzí groaned, glaring at the pavement, his face burning. "...Idiot."
But his hand brushed against Suki's under the umbrella, lingering, refusing to let go.
And for the first time, Ryuzí didn't pull away.