Chapter Text
The rain had been falling since morning—soft and steady, like a lullaby hummed from the clouds.
Jo sat by the window, legs tucked under him, a cup of tea warming his hands. He wasn’t reading, just watching the way the raindrops traced the glass, silent and slow. There was something about grey days that matched the rhythm of his thoughts.
Behind him, Yuma shuffled into the room, two blanket-dragging feet and a teasing smile. He leaned down, arms draping over Jo’s shoulders.
“Been out-rained by the weather,” he murmured. “That window’s getting more attention than me.”
Jo flushed, immediately.
“I wasn’t ignoring you…” he whispered, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“I know,” Yuma said, planting a kiss on the top of Jo’s head. “I just like making you blush.”
Jo ducked his head, half-hidden by the tea mug. His smile, though—soft, kind, full of warmth—gave him away.
Yuma settled on the floor beside him, shoulder pressed to Jo’s. He didn’t speak. He never needed to fill the silence when Jo was nearby. They sat like that for a long while, the rain their only company.
Eventually, Jo glanced over.
“I like when it’s quiet,” he said. His voice was hushed, like every word he chose had weight. “It feels like I can breathe better.”
Yuma nodded. “I like it too. Especially with you in it.”
Jo blinked, cheeks going pink again. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide the way Yuma’s words always stirred something deep in his chest.
“Why do you always say things like that so easily?” he asked, not accusing, just curious.
Yuma turned, smiling—not wide, but slow and sincere. The kind of smile that always came with the tiniest flash of his snaggletooth.
“Because I mean them,” he said simply.
Jo looked down, shy. But then, gently, he reached out and let his fingers curl into Yuma’s. A quiet kind of intimacy. No declarations. Just trust.
“I think I’d like to tell you more things,” Jo said after a long moment. “But they come slowly.”
Yuma squeezed his hand.
“Take all the time you need,” he said. “I’ll be here. Rain or shine.”
And Jo—still red, still soft—smiled again. The kind of smile that said thank you without needing words. The kind of smile Yuma would wait lifetimes to see.