Christopher Rankin always walked with his hood up when it rained, not because he didn't like the wet, but because it helped him feel enclosed - wrapped in silence, hidden just enough.
That afternoon, the drizzle was light, like shy fingertips tapping his shoulder. He'd forgotten his umbrella, but he didn't mind. The rain gave him time to think - about Benjamin's mouth brushing his, about how Donny smiled when he was distracted, about what it meant to be wanted. Not hypothetically. Not one day. But here. Now.
He had never felt particularly handsome. Too lanky, too quiet, too prone to vanishing in group photos. But with Benjamin's gaze lately and Donny's way of listening so carefully, Christopher began to wonder: Maybe love didn't pick the loudest person in the room. Maybe it looked for the one trying hardest to be seen.
At the school gate, he spotted Benjamin under a red umbrella, laughing with another boy. Donny sat on the low brick wall nearby, sketching something in his notebook.
Christopher's stomach twitched. He almost turned away, but then Benjamin saw him.
"Chris!" Benjamin waved, stepped forward, opened the umbrella wider.
"You're drenched," he said, pulling Christopher close beneath the canopy. Their arms pressed together.
The umbrella wasn't big enough, and they still got soaked - but it didn't matter. Christopher stood there, heart ticking slowly louder, and tried not to smile too much.
Donny glanced up. "Perfect timing. I was drawing rain and wishing for real ambiance."
Christopher wiped a drop from Benjamin's cheek. Benjamin leaned into the touch.
For a moment, Christopher forgot every reason he ever gave himself not to want more.
He deserved this. Not because he was flawless - but because he was trying. Every day, in small, careful ways, he was trying to open.