The rain was still falling when they stepped back outside.
Not heavy—just steady. Persistent.
Heaven opened her umbrella again without thinking, instinctively angling it toward Zane. The group gathered close as they started the walk back toward school, the street slick with puddles and passing cars hissing against the wet pavement.
Zane walked beside her, shoulders slightly hunched.
Heaven noticed it then.
His hands.
They were tucked into his sleeves, fingers pale, knuckles faintly pink from the cold. Even now, after warm ramen and time spent inside, he looked like the chill had never really left him.
Why does he always look like he's freezing? she wondered.
Without thinking too much about it, she shifted the umbrella closer to him. Their hands brushed.
Zane stiffened.
"S—sorry," he said quickly, trying to pull back.
"No," Heaven said softly. "It's okay."
She didn't move away.
His hand was cold. Colder than she expected.
The realization settled in her chest in a strange, quiet way. Not pity—something closer to concern. To wanting.
He's always giving warmth, she thought, but it feels like no one ever makes sure he has any.
The space between them felt charged now. Not awkward—just full. Like something unsaid pressed gently against the moment.
They were halfway across the street when it happened.
A car rounded the corner too fast, tires skidding slightly on the wet road. Someone laughed mid-sentence. Someone else gasped.
Zane stepped forward without noticing.
Heaven's heart stopped.
"Zane—!"
She didn't think. She moved.
Her hand grabbed his sleeve, yanking him back hard enough that he stumbled into her. The car sped past where he had been standing only a second before, water spraying up from the road.
The world snapped back into sound.
Shouts. Laughter that was too loud. Someone swearing under their breath.
Zane stood frozen, breath shallow, eyes wide.
Heaven's hands were still gripping his jacket.
For a moment—too long, too quiet—she didn't let go.
"You could've—" Her voice faltered. She swallowed.
"You have to be careful."
He looked at her like he'd just realized something important.
"I didn't even hear it," he admitted softly.
Her chest felt tight.
That was too close, she thought.
Too close.
She stepped back, forcing a small smile, but something in her eyes lingered—fear wrapped carefully in relief.
Haruto let out a low whistle. "Dude."
Aiko laughed nervously. "Guess Heaven's your guardian angel now."
Miyu crossed her arms. "Seriously. Saved your life."
Zane's ears burned red.
"I—um—thank you," he said, looking at Heaven. "Really."
She nodded. "Anytime."
But her heart was still racing.
What if I hadn't noticed?
What if I'd been a second too late?
The thought refused to leave her.
They made it back to school safely after that. The rest of the afternoon passed in smaller moments—finishing assignments, quiet conversations, shared glances across classrooms. Everything felt sharper somehow. More fragile.
When the final bell rang, Heaven found Zane waiting by the gates.
"Bus stop?" he asked.
She smiled. "Yeah."
The rain hadn't stopped.
They shared the umbrella again, closer this time, walking side by side as the sky dimmed into evening. Their shoulders brushed with each step. Neither of them moved away.
The bus ride was quiet and warm. Heads bowed slightly toward each other. The city lights flickered past the windows like distant stars.
When they got off at the same stop, Zane hesitated.
"Do you... want me to walk you home?" he asked.
"Since it's still raining."
She didn't hesitate this time.
"I'd like that."
The rain felt softer now, like it was listening.
They walked slowly, sharing the umbrella once more. When they reached Heaven's house, she stopped at the gate.
"Thank you," she said. "For today."
He shook his head. "Thank you."
She held out the umbrella. "You should take it. I don't want you walking home in the rain."
"But—"
She smiled. "I'll be fine."
Zane accepted it carefully, like it mattered more than it should.
"Goodnight, Heaven."
"Goodnight, Zane."
He watched her disappear inside before turning toward home.
Later, in the quiet of his room, Zane lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He replayed the day over and over—the umbrella, her hands on his sleeve, the way her voice had sounded when she called his name. His cheeks warmed, turning red as he pressed his arm over his eyes.
Something felt... off.
Not bad. Just strange. Like his chest was too light, or too heavy. Like something had brushed past him without leaving a mark.
He ignored it.
Closed his eyes.
Outside, rain tapped gently against the window.
And somewhere between what almost happened and what did, the night held its breath—
as if the world itself had noticed him,
just once,
and wasn't sure what it meant yet.