After The Rain

The first time Adrian saw Ethan, it was raining. Not the soft drizzle that kissed the earth gently, but a downpour that soaked everything in sight. Adrian had been standing under the awning of a bookstore, watching as the streets shimmered with puddles. That was when Ethan came crashing into his life—literally.

"Shit, sorry!" Ethan had gasped, colliding into him, his umbrella flipping inside out from the wind. He was drenched, curls sticking to his forehead, his glasses fogged up.

Adrian blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then he chuckled, handing over a napkin from his pocket. "Rough day?"

"You have no idea," Ethan muttered, wiping his glasses. "I missed my bus, my laptop died in the middle of a presentation, and now I’m soaked."

Adrian smiled. "Looks like you need coffee."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering?"

And just like that, a cup of coffee turned into hours of conversation.

They became something without realizing it. Late-night calls, weekend bookstore visits, long walks under city lights. Adrian, quiet and thoughtful, found himself drawn to Ethan’s vibrant energy, his animated gestures when he spoke, the way he always had a book tucked under his arm.

Ethan, in turn, found comfort in Adrian’s steady presence—the way he listened without judgment, how he never minded Ethan’s ramblings about literature and philosophy.

One evening, as they sat on Adrian’s tiny apartment balcony, Ethan looked over at him, eyes soft. "You ever think about love?"

Adrian glanced at him. "Sometimes."

Ethan took a breath. "And us?"

Adrian’s heart pounded. He had never been good with words, never been the type to spill his feelings easily. But looking at Ethan, he knew.

"I think about you. All the time."

Ethan smiled—small, hesitant, but real. "Good. Because I think about you too."

But love isn’t always smooth.

Ethan was offered a job in another city—a dream opportunity, the kind that didn’t come twice. The night he told Adrian, there was a storm outside, wind rattling the windows.

Adrian tried to be happy for him, but something ached deep inside. "So… when do you leave?"

Ethan hesitated. "Next month."

Silence stretched between them. Then, softly, Ethan whispered, "Come with me."

Adrian exhaled sharply. "Ethan, my work, my life—it's here."

Ethan’s eyes darkened. "So we just… end?"

Adrian reached for his hand. "I don’t want that."

"Then what do we do?"

Adrian thought for a long moment. Then he smiled. "We figure it out. Together."

A year later, Adrian stood at the train station, bags in hand, heart racing. The city had been his home for so long, but home wasn’t a place anymore. It was a person.

The train pulled in, doors sliding open. And there, waiting on the platform, was Ethan—smiling like the sun after the rain.

Adrian stepped forward, and Ethan pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Ready?" Ethan whispered.

Adrian squeezed his hand. "Always."

[THE END]

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