The rain started without warning.
One moment the sky was pale and tired, the next it was tearing itself open.
Noah stood under the narrow shelter outside the station, pretending to check his phone while actually watching the street for one specific shape.
He saw Evan before he meant to.
Too thin jacket.
Hair already dark with rain.
Standing awkwardly near a vending machine like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to exist in public space.
Noah sighed and crossed the road.
"You're going to catch pneumonia," he said.
Evan turned. "You sound like you're eighty."
"You look like you forgot how weather works."
"That's rude."
"That's accurate."
Evan hesitated, then held up a crushed paper cup. "The machine stole my money."
Noah stared at it. Then at him.
"…You crossed the street in the rain for a vending machine?"
"I was thirsty."
"There's a café literally five steps behind you."
Evan looked over his shoulder.
Paused.
"…Oh."
Noah closed his eyes.
They stood there, rain filling the silence.
Evan shifted his weight.
"So… are you done with work?"
"Yes."
"Oh." Beat. "Good."
Another beat.
Too quiet.
Noah cleared his throat. "You heading home?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
They said it at the same time.
Both stopped.
Evan laughed first—small, nervous. "This is awkward."
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "A little."
"…You could walk with me," Evan offered, too quickly. "I mean—only if you're not busy. Or tired. Or allergic to walking."
"I'm not allergic to walking."
"Good."
They started moving.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Their shoulders brushed once.
Both reacted like they'd been lightly electrocuted.
Evan pretended to be deeply interested in a closed shop window.
Noah suddenly found the road fascinating.
The rain softened into something gentle.
"So," Evan said. "You almost arrested your sofa the other day."
"It looked suspicious."
"I felt threatened."
"You are suspicious."
Evan smiled. "You're really bad at pretending you don't care."
Noah scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Mhm."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you crossed a flooded road for a guy and his stolen vending machine money."
Noah opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…Coincidence."
Evan's smile lingered, quiet and unreadable.
Evan laughed again, warmer this time.
Then—
His steps slowed.
Noah noticed immediately.
The air changed.
Not dramatically.
Subtly.
Like the city had held its breath.
Evan's hand lifted to his chest.
Fingers pressing through fabric.
Noah stopped walking.
"Evan?"
Evan didn't answer.
His breathing shifted—too fast, too shallow.
Rain slid down his face, mixing with sweat.
"It's happening," he whispered.
Noah's heart dropped. "What is?"
"The pressure."
"When did it start?"
"Just now."
"Strong?"
Evan nodded once.
His voice was barely there.
"It's quiet."
Noah looked around sharply.
Cars.
Windows.
People under umbrellas.
Nothing looked wrong.
Everything looked normal.
And that terrified him.
"Can you walk?" Noah asked.
"I think so."
Evan took one step.
Then another.
Then his knees buckled.
Noah caught him before he hit the ground.
Evan clutched his coat.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't mean to..."
"Stop," Noah said, holding him tighter. "Just breathe."
Evan tried.
Failed.
His lungs stuttered like they'd forgotten the rhythm.
Noah pressed his forehead to Evan's temple.
"Look at me," he whispered. "You're safe. You're here. I've got you."
Evan's hands shook violently.
It took almost a full minute before his breathing slowed.
Rain soaked them both.
People stared.
Noah didn't care.
When Evan finally pulled back, his eyes were wet...not just from rain.
"…You stayed," he said quietly.
"Of course I did."
Evan searched his face, like he was trying to memorize something.
"…Thank you."
Noah didn't answer.
He just kept one hand around Evan's wrist.
Checking his pulse.