The Day It Rained and I Forgot to Be Sad

(Luna’s POV)

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It rained that afternoon — the kind of rain that makes everyone run for cover, except for him.

Elior stood in the middle of the park, arms wide open, head tilted to the sky, laughing like the storm itself was telling him a joke. People stared, umbrellas hovering like shields between them and his madness, but he didn’t care. He never did.

“Come on, Luna!” he shouted, voice muffled by the downpour. “It’s on the list!”

I stood under a tree, hugging my bag close. “You’re insane!”

“Insane and living,” he said, smiling like the world had never hurt him. “Now get out here before I start counting!”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“One!”

“Elior—”

“Two!”

I sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “You wouldn’t.”

“Three!”

He looked at me with that grin — the one that made it impossible to say no. And before I could stop myself, I stepped out from the shade.

Cold rain hit my face instantly. It was shocking, raw, real. I gasped, shivering. My hair clung to my cheeks, my clothes drenched in seconds.

“See?” he said, laughing as he twirled around. “Doesn’t it feel like being alive?”

I glared at him. “It feels like getting pneumonia.”

“Close enough!”

He reached out, grabbing my hand, spinning me in a wide circle. I stumbled, slipping on the wet grass, and crashed into his chest. For a moment, I felt his heartbeat — fast, strong, alive.

He held me steady, still smiling, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t laughter. Something that said, this moment matters.

I stepped back quickly, my face burning despite the cold. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, flicking water at me.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re also soaked.”

He shrugged. “Dying anyway. Might as well die clean.”

I hit his arm lightly. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not funny.”

His smile softened. “I know. I just… don’t want you to look at me like I’m fragile. I’m still here, Luna. Right now, I’m still here.”

Something twisted inside me — guilt, fear, maybe both.

We stood there for a while, letting the rain wash over us. Around us, the park emptied. The world blurred into gray and green, but somehow, in that mess, he looked like the only clear thing left.

“Why do you do it?” I asked suddenly. “All this — the list, the laughing, pretending everything’s okay?”

He looked at the sky before answering. “Because if I stop, I’ll remember I don’t have forever. And I’d rather fill my days with something than wait for nothing.”

His words hit me harder than the rain.

I thought of my own days — the silence at home, the empty rooms, the constant wishing for an end.

And here was this boy, fighting for every second I’d once wanted to throw away.

“You’re crazy,” I whispered.

“Probably,” he said, smiling again. “But at least now, you’re smiling too.”

I didn’t realize it until he said it — my lips were curved, my chest light, my laughter echoing quietly with his.

It felt strange.

It felt… good.

When the rain finally stopped, we were both drenched and shivering. Elior sneezed, then laughed again. “Okay, next time, maybe I’ll add ‘bring towels’ to the list.”

We walked to a small café nearby, dripping all over the floor as we ordered hot chocolate. The waitress frowned but handed us extra napkins.

Elior blew on his drink, eyes half-closed. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

He looked at me with that same soft brightness. “You look more alive when you’re wet and freezing than when you’re hiding behind those walls you built.”

I stared at him, unsure whether to be offended or touched. “You’re so bad at compliments.”

He chuckled. “Maybe. But I mean it.”

For a while, neither of us spoke. The rain kept falling outside, softer now, like the world was finally breathing again.

“Elior,” I said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“If you… if you ever get tired, you don’t have to keep pretending, okay?”

He blinked, surprised. “Who says I’m pretending?”

“You always smile,” I said. “Even when it hurts.”

He looked down at his cup, swirling it slowly. “Maybe that’s my way of fighting back.”

I wanted to say more, but he smiled again — not the bright one he gives everyone else, but a smaller, gentler one.

And for the first time, I realized that his laughter wasn’t about ignoring pain. It was about surviving it.

When I got home that night, my mother scolded me for being drenched. I didn’t care.