Desperado

A sudden crack of thunder split the night, the windows shivering faintly in their frames.

Crow stirred, his face buried in his pillow. The rain poured loudly and steadily, tapping against the windows, sliding down the roof, and filling the room with enough chill.

He blinked against the dark, rubbing his face as he sat up halfway.

“That’s cold…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood slowly and shuffled out of his room.

“Hinata, are you—?”

He stopped.

The couch was empty. The blanket was folded neatly.

The air around him instantly froze.

“…Hinata?”

He blinked again, more alert now. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked.

No answer. He opened it—empty.

He called out towards the kitchen. Nothing.

A quiet panic pierced through his chest now. He grabbed the key off the wall hook—fumbling slightly—and rushed to the roof access.

The torrent hit him the second the door opened. He stepped out, letting it soak his shoulders as he scanned the rooftop.

No one there.

His breath twisted as he slammed the door shut and bounded back down the stairs.

The stillness became a vacuum. Lifeless.

He reached for his phone. Swiped it up. Dialed without thinking. The line buzzed once. Then twice.

The line rang. He heard a faint sound coming from the other side of the room.

He turned his head.

The phone—her phone—was sitting on the coffee table, light flashing. Ringing. Unanswered.

He walked over. Picked it up with trembling fingers. His breath caught in his throat.

“…No, no, no.”

He dropped the phone back on the table, spun around, and grabbed his jacket. His fingers fumbled with the zipper.

He ripped the umbrella from the stand and raced out of the door.

The hallway exploded with noise—raindrops slapping against concrete, thunder rolling in the distance, wind biting hard through the opening.

Regardless, he stepped out against the wind and dark.

His heart pounded louder in his ears than the crash of the storm.

And a single thought trying to claw its way out.

Find her.

— • —

Trickles streamed from the edge of Hinata’s hood, slipping down the slope of her cheek.

Alone, hands shoved deep into her pockets, shoulders folded in.

The streets stretched dimly, strips of dull traffic lights reflecting on wet asphalt.

She didn’t flinch from the cold or thunder rumbling above.

But her eyes were lost in a sea without a current.

Hinata slowed beside a shuttered store window. She looked up.

Her reflection stared back—distorted by the ripples on the glass.

“…a ghost,” she muttered.

The words hung there. Even the voice didn’t sound like hers.

— • —

Crow sprinted across an intersection. A horn blared—tires hissed—but he didn’t slow. Water burst up his legs with every step, soaking through his socks. His chest heaved.

He shouted her name at the top of his lungs.

No one answered back. She probably wouldn’t.

A man walked by.

“Hello, sir! I’m so sorry, did you see a girl? Hoodie, as tall as me, quiet?” Crow’s voice cracked.

The man shook his head. “Sorry.”

Crow exhaled through his teeth, gripping the umbrella handle until it creaked.

— • —

Hinata sat curled at a bus stop—empty, rusted, the ad panel long faded.

She hugged her knees to her chest. Stared into the road, not waiting for a bus.

There was no destination. Like walking far enough would explain why she felt like nothing.

Nothing was hers. And she was nobody’s.

A memory lit behind her eyes.

A round table. Voices. Warmth. Laughter.

Crow’s hand reaching across, placing food in her bowl like it was his life’s calling.

Hinata gripped her sleeves tightly, the cold barely making her shiver.

Like the matchstick girl, whose last embers of hope flickered before she finally closed her eyes.

— • —

Crow slowed as the run drained him. Or maybe it was the weight inside his chest.

The rain pattered against his back in the middle of an empty street, the umbrella long gone.

He knew something was wrong. And he didn’t even hold her hand once.

His bangs clung to his forehead, droplets dripping past his lashes.

His lips parted. A whisper. Raw.

An apology answered by lightning.

He slowed near a bus stop. He bent forward, hands on his knees, dragging breath into his lungs.

Then—a car flashed its headlights to warn everyone of its passing.

He squinted. For a moment, his vision was strobed.

As his sight slowly returned, silhouettes came into view.

Across the road—a figure sat by the curb.

Her arms wrapped around her knees, holding herself together before she tears apart.

Crow moved. Each step slow, careful—like one wrong breath would send her vanishing again.

He stopped a few feet away. She didn’t look.

“Hinata.” His voice was low. Raw.

Water dripped from Crow’s knuckles. He took a step closer. His voice started to shake.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like—walking into the room and you were just gone?”

Her fingers pressed harder into her sleeves.

Crow dropped to a knee in front of her, soaked through his clothes. He didn’t care.

“I asked you to stay…” he murmured. “I hoped you’d stay because you wanted to.”

She looked at him. Just a little. Just enough.

Her lips parted. No sound came.

Crow didn’t wait. Couldn’t.

“You’re not a ghost, Hinata,” he said, his voice breaking. “But neither am I.”

Her breath shook.

“You don’t understand…” she whispered.

Crow leaned in. Forehead almost against hers. “Then talk to me!” he said. “Help me understand!”

She exhaled—sharp and sudden. A sound caught between a sob and a laugh.

“You won’t… Because you’re an idiot.”

Her voice cracked. But it was honest.

She stared at him. At his drenched hair. His shivering arms. His face, open and hurting.

Something in her finally snapped.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much...”

She pressed her palms against her eyes like she could force them back—but they kept coming. Rain, tears. Neither made any difference.

Crow’s expression crumpled. His brow furrowed. His breath hitched.

He shook his head, voice splintering.

“I told you I wouldn’t ask you for anything,” Crow said, barely above a whisper. “But I’m asking now…”

“…please don’t run like nobody ca—”

Hinata threw herself into him.

No guard at all. Just a girl crashing into the only place that still felt real.

Crow caught her. Held her like letting go would mean starting from nothing again.

She buried her face in his shoulder. Her fists clung to his jacket like she’d be whisked away without his weight.

He held her head. The whole of her.

The thunder faded. Rain still fell.

But here—

Only their breath. And the warmth washed their pain away.