"Storms don't always end when the thunder fades. Sometimes they settle inside people instead."
The rain the following Thursday was gentle.
Not the wild, crashing kind from last week. Not the shy drizzle from their early days either. This rain fell steadily, like it had accepted something. Like it wasn't trying to prove anything anymore.
Kazuki noticed it immediately.
He stood beneath the bus stop roof, watching the drops land in the same shallow puddle, over and over, creating ripples that erased each other before they could grow. It reminded him of thoughts he couldn't finish.
He hadn't stopped thinking about the storm.
About Ame's words.
About her face through the bus window.
About the way she'd looked like she wanted to stay.
He replayed it all too much. The tone of her voice. The hesitation. The way her hand slipped from his like something being pulled away by time itself.
He wondered if she was replaying it too.
A figure appeared at the far end of the street.
Umbrella. Slow steps. Familiar posture.
Ame.
She wasn't late, but she wasn't early either. Right on time, like someone who didn't want to seem eager but didn't want to miss the moment.
She reached the stop and closed her umbrella before stepping under the shelter. Her eyes found him almost immediately.
"Hey," she said.
Her voice was softer than usual. Not sad. Not cheerful. Just…
"Hey," Kazuki replied.
They stood for a moment before sitting. Closer than last time, but not touching. The air between them wasn't tense like before , it was thoughtful.
Like both of them were choosing their words before speaking.
"The storm last week was intense," she said.
Kazuki gave a small laugh. "That's one way to put it."
"I checked the forecast after," she continued. "There wasn't supposed to be thunder."
He glanced at her. "Maybe the sky changed its mind."
"Maybe," she said.
Or maybe they had.
The rain tapped gently on the roof above them. A quieter rhythm. Almost comforting. The kind of rain that makes people talk instead of hide.
Ame looked at her shoes.
"My mom finalized the moving date."
Kazuki's chest tightened.
He kept his voice steady. "When?"
"Three weeks."
Three Thursdays.
The number echoed in his head.
"That's… soon," he said.
She nodded. "Yeah."
He expected the words to hurt more, but instead they settled heavily in his stomach, like a truth he'd already known but refused to name.
Three more bus stops.
Three more rains.
Three more chances.
"I didn't tell you earlier because…" She trailed off.
"Because saying it makes it real?" he finished.
She looked at him, surprised. Then smiled faintly. "Yeah."
They fell into silence again, but this one wasn't empty. It was shared. A silence where both people understood the same thing.
The rain picked up slightly. Not a storm, just enough to blur the world beyond the street.
Kazuki spoke again.
"Do you regret it?"
Ame blinked. "Regret what?"
"Us. The rain. The kisses. Any of it."
Her answer came quickly.
"No."
Then slower, more honest:
"I regret that it ends."
That hit him harder than any dramatic confession could.
He nodded, staring at the puddles. "Me too."
A middle school couple ran past, sharing one umbrella and laughing too loudly. Ame watched them disappear around the corner.
"Do you think some people meet at the wrong time?" she asked.
Kazuki thought about it.
"I think some people meet at the only time they were ever going to."
She turned to him fully now. "That sounds sad."
"It's not," he said. "It just means it mattered enough to happen at all."
Her expression softened in a way he'd never seen before. Not shy. Not guarded. Just open.
"You say things like that so casually," she said.
"I don't mean to."
"I know."
The bus was late today. Neither of them checked the time.
The rain thinned again, returning to a quiet drizzle. The world beyond the stop looked washed out, like a painting left in the rain too long.
Ame spoke again, more hesitant.
"When I move… I don't want this to just become a memory you cringe at later."
Kazuki frowned. "Why would I cringe?"
"Because teenage feelings are supposed to be embarrassing when you grow up."
He shook his head. "Not these."
She looked at him like she wanted him to explain, but he didn't. Some things felt stronger when left simple.
A small breeze carried mist into the shelter, speckling their sleeves.
"I think," Ame said slowly, "I'll always remember Thursdays when it rains."
Kazuki smiled lightly. "Me too."
Another pause.
Then she added:
"But I don't want you to wait for rain after I'm gone."
That caught him off guard.
"I'm not that dramatic," he said, though part of him knew he might be.
She laughed quietly. The sound was gentle, like the rain itself.
"I mean it," she said. "Don't turn into someone who only looks at the sky."
He looked at her.
"And you?" he asked.
"I'll probably do the opposite," she admitted. "I'll look at the sky too much."
They both smiled at that.
The bus finally appeared in the distance.
Neither stood yet.
Ame's hand rested on the bench between them. Kazuki noticed, then slowly placed his own beside it. Their fingers touched. Not intertwined. Just touching.
The bus drew closer.
"Three more," she whispered.
"Three more," he agreed.
The doors opened with their usual hiss.
This time, she stood first.
But before stepping in, she turned back and said something different.
"Next week… can we talk about something happy?"
Kazuki nodded. "Yeah."
"No heavy stuff. No countdowns. Just… us."
He smiled. "Deal."
She stepped onto the bus.
And for the first time, Kazuki didn't feel like something was ending.
It felt like something was being cultivated for a new beginning
The bus pulled away.
The drizzle continued.
And Kazuki stayed under the shelter a little longer than necessary, listening to the rain that had brought them together, wondering how it would sound when it fell without her there.