THE RAIN THAT TOOK ME

SNOW'S POV

It was raining the night he came to me.

The kind of heavy, relentless rain that drums against the roof like a warning. My window was cracked open just enough to let in the cold, damp breeze. I had been curled up on my bed with a book I wasn’t reading, my mind stuck on him..like always.

Then I heard it.

A knock on the door. Not urgent. Just... tired.

I knew it was him before I even opened it.

“Ian?” I whispered.

He stood there, soaked from the rain, his hair a mess, his shirt clinging to his chest. His eyes were darker than usual....red-rimmed, angry, drunk.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.

But he didn’t turn away.

Instead, he stepped in and shut the door behind him. His presence filled the room like smoke.....intoxicating, suffocating, dangerous. My heart was racing, but I stayed still. I always did when he was like this.....burning and broken.

He didn't speak again. Not right away.

Just looked at me, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling rapidly like he was holding something in.

“I take it things didn’t go well with Layla,” I said quietly.

That was the wrong thing to say.

He laughed once....cold and humorless....then walked past me and into my bedroom like he owned it. Like I was his... even though he never said I was.

“She cheated,” he said simply, collapsing onto my bed. “Again. With her ex.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he snapped. “I should’ve expected it. Girls like her...they don’t change.”

He looked up at me then, his gaze sharp. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “What?”

He pushed himself up and walked toward me, stopping just inches from my face. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, sharp and biting. His eyes searched mine.

“You’re always watching,” he murmured. “Always waiting.”

“I care about you,” I whispered.

He smirked. “Yeah. That’s your problem.”

Before I could say another word, his hands were on my waist, dragging me to him. His kiss was rough....desperate. Like he was trying to forget something. Erase someone.

“Ian......” I breathed, trying to pull back. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re always here,” he said against my lips. “Waiting for me.”

“I......I..” My voice caught. “I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“You already are.”

That hurt. But I didn’t move.

Because a part of me....stupid, selfish, in love...still believed maybe this was it. The moment things shifted. Maybe after this, he’d finally look at me and see me.

He kissed me again, slower this time. Like he wanted to feel every inch of my skin. My body betrayed me, responding to his touch even though my heart was screaming.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

I should’ve.

But I didn’t.

“Don’t stop,” I said instead.

And just like that, something broke between us.

He lifted me up, carrying me to the bed, pressing kisses to my neck, my collarbone. His hands were everywhere....rough, greedy. My skin burned where he touched me. My mind was a whirlwind of fear, excitement, guilt, hope.

I gave him everything that night.

All of me.

Not because he asked.

But because I loved him.

Because I thought, maybe if I let him in, he’d stay.

Afterward, he lay beside me, one arm flung over his eyes, chest rising and falling slowly.

The silence felt heavier than his body had.

I turned to face him, trying to read something...anything....in his expression.

“Ian...”

He moved his arm slightly, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m never gonna date you, Snow,” he said flatly. “Don’t catch feelings.”

My breath caught.