I (POV: Lucian & Nareth)

The rain fell in thin, slanted lines, blurring the world into a gray watercolor. Lucian walked beside Nareth without speaking, their boots splashing through shallow puddles that reflected the faint glow of the streetlamps. The silence between them was not awkward—just heavy, filled with things neither dared to say.

Lucian tilted his head toward him, his wet hair clinging to his cheek. “You didn’t have to walk me back,” he murmured, voice soft enough to be almost lost in the rain.

Nareth’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes didn’t meet his. “You think I’d let you disappear into the storm alone again?”

“Again?” Lucian’s tone was teasing, but a flash of memory crossed his face—dark alleys, running footsteps, Nareth’s hand pulling him out of danger. “That was months ago.”

“And I still don’t trust the world enough to let it have you,” Nareth said simply.

Lucian’s heart skipped. He looked away, focusing on the way raindrops gathered at the ends of his lashes before falling. “You say things like that so easily,” he whispered.

“I mean them easily.”

They reached the steps of Lucian’s apartment. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the wind still carried the smell of damp earth and electricity. For a moment, neither of them moved. Lucian turned toward him, close enough that he could see the reflection of the streetlight in Nareth’s eyes.

“You always look like you’re about to run,” Nareth said quietly. “But you never do.”

Lucian’s lips parted. “And you always look like you want to stop me.”

“I do.”

There was no sound but the soft patter of rain. Nareth reached out, brushing his thumb over Lucian’s jaw, wiping away a droplet that wasn’t rain. Lucian didn’t flinch this time. His breath trembled as he leaned into the touch, eyes closing for just a second—long enough to say what words couldn’t.

Then, like the sky itself sighed, thunder rolled far away. Lucian opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “Goodnight, Nareth.”

“Goodnight,” Nareth said, though he didn’t move until Lucian disappeared inside. He stood there long after, staring at the door as the rain began to fall harder again—washing the world clean, except the ache in his chest.

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