It started on a Monday the kind of day when the air feels heavy before the rain even comes The clouds were low dragging over the rooftops like they were trying to touch something I walked out of the cafeteria holding a paper cup of coffee that had already gone cold I didn’t expect anything to happen that day I just wanted to get home before the storm

The first drop hit right as I stepped past the gate then another then everything turned into water in seconds I ran under the awning outside the library with a few other students all strangers except one He was standing there with a bright yellow umbrella closed at his side shoes already soaked like he had given up trying to stay dry

He looked at me and smiled not wide just a small tilt like he’d been waiting for someone to laugh with I said you’re not even using that umbrella He said it’s broken the wind flipped it earlier and I said then why keep it He said maybe it’ll still help someone

When the rain slowed a little he opened it anyway the edges bent the handle cracked but somehow it still worked enough for two He said come on it’s not far I hesitated but the wind pushed rain into my face so I stepped under without thinking The umbrella wasn’t big enough we both leaned inward and our shoulders touched for the first time

We walked through puddles and traffic noises he talked about random things like how he hated the smell of wet uniforms how the school coffee always tasted burnt I barely answered just listened the way you listen to a song you don’t want to end

By the time we reached the corner store the rain turned soft almost like snow He stopped and said I’ll wait here until it stops You can go ahead if you want I said I’m fine waiting too and that was it two strangers standing under a broken umbrella in front of flickering neon lights pretending not to notice how close their hands were

He asked my name I told him and he repeated it like testing how it felt in his mouth then said I’m Ethan He looked at me again and said I think I’ve seen you before maybe in the library I said maybe I’m there a lot He said I thought so you always look like you’re somewhere else

We didn’t talk after that just listened to the sound of cars moving through puddles The umbrella dripped between us small drops falling on my sleeve He reached up to adjust it and his hand brushed my hair he froze then laughed awkwardly saying sorry I said it’s fine but my heart didn’t think so

When the rain finally stopped the sky turned pale like the world had forgotten how to be blue again He closed the umbrella the metal clicking shut and said guess it’s fixed for now I said maybe it was never really broken He looked at me for a long second before saying maybe you’re right

He walked me halfway to the station then waved once and turned the other way I watched him go until the yellow umbrella disappeared around the corner

That night when I opened my bag the paper cup from earlier was still there empty and wrinkled and for some reason I couldn’t throw it away maybe because it smelled faintly of rain maybe because it reminded me of the moment the sky fell apart and someone decided to share half of what was left