The next morning came slow.
The sound of rain filled the house—steady, soft, almost comforting. Gray light filtered through Emma's curtains. The window was still slightly open from last night.
Liam was gone.
Not suddenly.
Not badly.
Just… gone.
Emma sat on her bed, knees drawn up, watching the rain trace lines down the glass. Her phone vibrated.
Incoming video call: Diana
Emma answered.
Immediately—
"EMMAAAA— I'M BUSY "
The screen shook violently.
Diana flipped the camera around, showing absolute chaos.
Food containers.
A half-broken chair.
Valeria in the background yelling something about a pigeon.
Mostang somewhere off-screen screaming dramatically like he was dying.
Emma blinked.
"…Busy," she repeated flatly.
Diana nodded aggressively. "YES. VERY BUSY. IMPORTANT LIFE THINGS."
Valeria suddenly leaned into the camera.
"DIANA YOU OWE ME MONEY—"
The call tilted again.
Diana whispered loudly, "SEE?? I'M WANTED."
Emma watched in silence as Diana struggled to prop the phone up, rain audible from Emma's side, noise from Diana's.
"So," Diana said, finally calmer, squinting at Emma.
"Why do you look… quiet?"
Emma looked away, back at the rain.
"I'm fine."
Diana narrowed her eyes.
"…That's suspicious."
Emma didn't respond.
Diana sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. I am busy today. BUT—"
She pointed at the camera.
"Tomorrow. You. Me. Walking. Talking. No excuses."
Emma nodded slightly.
"Okay."
Diana grinned. "Good. Don't drown in your emo rain vibes."
Valeria yelled again in the background.
Diana panicked. "I GOTTA GO—"
The call ended abruptly.
Emma lowered her phone.
The house was quiet again.
Rain kept falling.
Emma stood, closed the window, and let the room settle into silence—her expression calm, unreadable.
Emma went downstairs quietly.
She reached the living room—
And froze.
Ethan and Asuka were way too close on the couch.—just clearly affectionate, intimate, whispered voices, hands where on their unmentionable. Things.
The moment they noticed her—
They sprang apart like they'd been electrocuted.
Ethan immediately grabbed a newspaper that wasn't even open.
Asuka stood up too fast, nearly knocking over a cushion.
"A—Ahem," Ethan coughed, suddenly very interested in nothing.
"Yes. Morning. Weather," Asuka said quickly, smoothing her hair like it had always been that neat.
Emma stared.
Silent. Expression blank.
"…Good morning," she said calmly.
Both parents nodded way too hard.
"GOOD MORNING," Asuka replied.
"Yes. Normal morning. Nothing happening here," Ethan added.
Emma walked past them toward the kitchen.
Asuka whispered sharply, "I told you she wakes up early."
Ethan whispered back, "I thought she'd sleep in—"
Emma opened the fridge.
"…You can stop pretending," she said flatly. "I'm not blind."
Silence.
Then Asuka laughed awkwardly.
"Well— at least you have parents who love each other."
Emma paused.
"…I know."
She took a drink, closed the fridge, and went back upstairs—leaving behind two adults sitting very stiffly, red-faced, and absolutely embarrassed.
Emma went back upstairs.
She sat on her bed for a moment, rain tapping softly against the window.
Her phone was beside her. Silent.
She stared at it.
…She missed him.
Not in a dramatic way.
Not pacing.
Not sighing.
Just a quiet, unfamiliar pull in her chest.
Emma stood up.
She changed her clothes—nothing special. Simple. Comfortable.
Then she went downstairs again.
Ethan was in the kitchen this time, pretending to cook something while Asuka hovered nearby.
Emma stopped at the doorway.
"I'm going out," she said.
Ethan turned around immediately.
"…You?"
Asuka blinked. "Out? In this rain?"
"Yes."
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly—not suspicious, just surprised.
Emma almost never went out for herself.
"Where?" he asked.
Emma paused for half a second.
"…To see someone."
That alone was enough.
Ethan's eyebrows lifted. Slowly.
Asuka's expression softened instantly.
"Oh," Asuka said gently.
Ethan cleared his throat, trying not to smile.
"…Do you need a ride?"
"No."
"…Money?"
"No."
Ethan nodded, pretending this was normal.
"…Be careful."
Emma grabbed her jacket.
Before she left, Asuka spoke again.
"Emma."
Emma turned.
Asuka smiled—the kind of smile only a mother gives when she understands more than she says.
"Come back safe."
Emma nodded once.
"I will."
She stepped outside.
The rain welcomed her immediately—cool, steady, honest.
She walked without hesitation.
No fear.
No doubt.
She already knew exactly where she was going.
---
Emma stood there.
Rain soaked through her hair, her skirt clinging uncomfortably to her thighs.
Her hands were cold.
Her fingers stiff.
She had gone everywhere he usually was.
The corner store.
The quiet street.
The place where bikes were always parked.
Nothing.
No Liam.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, rain pouring down like it was trying to erase her.
For the first time that night—
She hesitated.
"…Idiot," she muttered under her breath.
Not at him.
At herself.
Her shoulders lowered.
She was tired.
Cold.
She turned slightly, ready to go back home.
Suddenly—
A jacket landed on her shoulders.
Warm.
Before she could react, arms wrapped around her from behind.
Firm. Protective.
A chest against her back.
She froze.
A familiar scent.
Leather. Rain. Smoke.
"…You're terrible at finding people," a low voice murmured near her ear.
Emma's breath caught.
"Liam…"
He pulled the jacket tighter around her, his chin resting lightly on her head.
His body blocked the rain from hitting her face.
"You're drenched," he said quietly.
"Why didn't you call?"
Emma didn't answer.
She just… leaned back.
Just a little.
Enough for him to feel it.
Liam exhaled slowly, tightening his arms.
"…I was looking for you."
She turned in his hold, finally facing him.
Rain slid down his hair, his lashes wet, eyes fixed on her like he'd been worried the entire time.
"I didn't know where you lived," she said flatly.
That was all.
Liam stared at her for a second.
Then he smiled—soft, relieved, almost disbelieving.
"…You came out in the rain for that?"
Emma looked away.
"…Don't make it dramatic."
He laughed quietly, then reached up, brushing wet hair from her face with his thumb.
"You're shaking," he said.
Before she could respond, he pulled her back into his chest, one hand on the back of her head.
"Come on," he murmured.
"My place is close."
Emma didn't resist.
She didn't argue.
She simply held onto his jacket—
And let him lead her out of the rain.
----
They reached the building quietly.
Not flashy.
Not big.
Just a small apartment complex, warm yellow lights glowing behind rain-fogged windows.
Liam unlocked the door and stepped aside.
"After you."
Emma walked in.
It was… cozy.
A small couch, a low table, a shelf with scattered books and tools, a jacket thrown over a chair. The place smelled faintly of coffee and detergent. Lived in—but not messy. Quiet. Safe.
Liam closed the door behind them and locked it.
"You can take your shoes off," he said. "Towel's in the bathroom."
Emma didn't move.
Her eyes scanned the room again.
Then she frowned.
"…You live alone?"
"Yeah."
A pause.
"…Where are your parents?"
The question landed heavier than she meant it to.
Liam stopped mid-step.
He didn't turn around immediately.
"…Don't know," he said after a moment.
Emma looked at him.
"What do you mean… you don't know?"
He finally turned, leaning his back against the counter, arms crossed loosely. His expression wasn't angry. Not sad either.
Just… empty.
"They left when I was younger," he said.
"No notes. No calls. No addresses."
Emma's brow furrowed deeper.
"…And you're fine with that?"
Liam shrugged.
"I had to be."
He gestured around the apartment.
"Rental sponsor's an old friend. I work part-time. Pay what I can."
A small smile. "Not rich like Arthur."
Emma didn't react to the name.
She stepped closer.
"You don't even try to look for them?"
He met her eyes.
"For what?"
"They made their choice."
Silence filled the room, broken only by the rain tapping against the windows.
Emma looked away first.
"…I see."
She removed the jacket slowly, folding it carefully instead of tossing it aside. Then she sat on the edge of the couch, posture straight, composed.
But her fingers clenched slightly in her lap.
Liam noticed.
He walked over, crouched in front of her.
"You don't have to pity me," he said quietly.
Emma looked down at him.
"I wasn't," she replied.
"…I was thinking."
"About what?"
"…That you turned out like this anyway."
He raised a brow.
"Like what?"
She paused.
Then—
"…Strong."
Not physically.
Liam stared at her for a second.
Then his expression softened.
He stood up and reached for a blanket, gently placing it around her shoulders.
"Bathroom's warm," he said. "Go dry off."
Emma didn't argue.
As she stood and passed him, she said quietly—
"…If they left."
A pause.
"That's on them."
Liam froze.
He didn't respond.
But when the bathroom door closed—
He smiled.
Emma stepped out of the bathroom, hair still slightly damp, wearing one of Liam's hoodies. It was a bit big on her, sleeves covering part of her hands.
She stopped.
Liam was in the kitchen.
And… struggling.
A pan was on the stove. Something was sizzling a little too aggressively. He was staring at it like it might attack him back, phone in one hand, recipe open, brow furrowed.
"…Why is it smoking," he muttered.
Emma walked closer, silent.
She leaned over slightly, looked at the pan.
"…You're burning it."
"I turned the heat down," Liam said defensively.
"You turned it down after it was already dead."
He clicked his tongue. "I'm trying."
Emma reached past him and turned the stove off completely.
Silence.
Liam looked at her, then at the pan.
"…I ruined it, didn't I."
"Yes."
He sighed. "Great."
Emma took the spatula from his hand without asking.
"Move."
He obeyed instantly.
She rolled her sleeves up neatly, movements calm and precise. She scraped the burnt bits off, added a little oil, then reached for the salt.
"You don't cook?" she asked.
"I fight. I work. I survive," he said. "Cooking was never part of the skill tree."
She huffed—barely noticeable, but it was there.
"That explains a lot."
He leaned against the counter, watching her.
"You always like this?" he asked. "Just… taking over?"
"If you're incompetent, yes."
"Ouch."
She cracked an egg with one hand, clean, no shell.
Liam blinked.
"…Show-off."
Emma glanced at him sideways.
"You wanted to feed me. I'm making sure you don't poison me."
Fair.
A few minutes passed. The smoke was gone. The smell was actually… good.
Liam watched, quiet now.
"You didn't have to help," he said eventually.
Emma didn't stop stirring.
"…You tried," she replied.
"That's enough."
That answer hit him harder than he expected.
When she finally turned the stove off, she plated the food simply. Nothing fancy. Just warm. Real.
She handed him a plate.
"You eat too."
He hesitated. "I was making it for you."
"And you'll eat," she said flatly.
He smiled.
They sat on the small table, knees almost touching.
Liam took a bite.
"…This is good."
"It's normal," Emma replied.
"Normal is good."
She ate quietly.
After a moment, Liam said softly—
"You know… no one's ever cooked with me before."
Emma paused.
Then continued eating.
"…Get used to it."
He looked at her.
Liam hadn't stopped looking at her.
Not while they ate.
Not when she wiped her hands.
Not when the plates were pushed aside.
Emma noticed.
She lifted her eyes slowly. "What."
Liam didn't answer.
He stood up instead.
One step closer.
Emma stayed seated. Calm. Still. No tension in her body—only awareness. She watched him approach, eyes steady, unreadable.
Another step.
Close enough now that she could feel his warmth.
"You're staring," she said.
"I know."
He leaned down slightly, resting a hand on the table near her, not touching her yet.
Emma didn't move back.
She didn't move forward either.
It wasn't hesitation.
It was permission.
Liam's voice dropped. "Tell me to stop."
She didn't.
So he leaned in.
Slow.
Careful.
Their lips met—soft at first, like he was testing if this was real. Emma froze for half a second, then her hand lifted and lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.
That was all it took.
The kiss deepened, unhurried but full, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her just a little closer.
Not aggressive.
Not rushed.
Just… wanted.
When they finally pulled back
Emma exhaled quietly.
"…You're warm," she said.
Liam smiled.
"You're staying," he replied.
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
She stayed.
Chapter end