Only The Rain Knows

The street lay quiet, hours before dawn, as if the world itself waited for sunrise.

Rain-soaked pavement reflected dim streetlights. A taxi pulled away from the gate and vanished at the street’s end.

Crow stood still, drenched, and his hair clinging to his face. His jacket hung heavily, weighed down not just by water, but by every word left unspoken tonight. Yet none of that mattered now.

Because on his back, Hinata slept.

Her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, her head rested against the crook of his neck, her soft breathing brushing his skin.

She hadn’t let go. And he wouldn’t let her fall.

He moved carefully toward the stairs, as if carrying something precious and fragile. He entered the walkway, his boots squeaking faintly against the damp floor.

At the door, he slid the key into the lock. The door creaked open, welcomed by a flood of familiar warmth.

Crow stepped inside and softly shut the door.

Hinata stirred slightly as the lights clicked on, lips parted, murmuring slightly.

He slowly pushed open his bedroom door. He lowered her onto the mattress with utmost care. Once she finally settled, he took off her hoodie, her hair clinging softly to the fabric.

He covered her with his comforter, tucking it around her. He knelt beside her for a moment, simply watching her breathe.

Then, Crow walked towards his dresser and retrieved a soft, worn towel. He dried her hair tenderly, his fingertips unwinding each damp tangle with patient care.

After drying her hair, Crow moved to the closet and retrieved an oversized T-shirt and a pair of comfortable joggers, folding them neatly and placing them beside her on the bed’s edge.

Satisfied, he went to the living room.

Her phone rested exactly where it sat, the pink heart charm glinting softly in the faint light.

Crow carefully placed the phone beside her pillow, easily within reach. He lingered for a moment before quietly stepping away.

The bedroom door closed behind him with the gentlest of clicks.

The apartment settled into comfort. Outside, distant sounds drifted softly through the window.

Buzz.

Hinata’s phone screen lit softly in the darkness, briefly illuminating her peaceful features.

[New Message – Dr. Stupid]

Hinata didn’t stir. But, ever so subtly, her lips relaxed—a gentle ease washing over her face, as though his warmth had reached her, even in sleep.

— • —

Gentle rays of sunlight peeked through the blinds, painting across Hinata’s rumpled blanket.

Her brows furrowed briefly as she stirred.

She blinked slowly once. Shifting beneath the blanket, she winced as sore muscles settled into her shoulders and back, as if she wrestled something heavy all night.

She sat up gradually, and her eyes wandered the room: a blanket that wasn’t hers, a cluttered desk, the familiar glow of a standing lamp. This wasn't the couch.

She narrowed her eyes. This bed beneath her, though warm, felt different. The sheets carried a scent—faint, clean, comforting. Safe.

Hinata's gaze shifted toward the corner; the monitors glowed softly in standby.

Reality slowly filtered back: the rainstorm, the cold, the warmth of strong arms catching her fall.

Crow.

She exhaled deeply, and her attention dropped to the bedside. Clothes, oversized and folded neatly. His.

A gentle glint caught her eye. Beside her, the pink heart charm hung delicately, sparkling in the sunlight. She took it into her hands carefully, her thumb tracing circles over its surface.

She turned the screen on. One unread message flashed:

From: Dr. Stupid

She unlocked it with subtle anticipation, and the familiar bluntness of his words appeared:

"Please change your clothes when you see this message. You might get sick. 🖤🐦👍"

She stared at the screen, disbelief tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“…You never changed,” she murmured softly

She glanced toward the window again, allowing the warmth of the morning to settle around her.

The neighborhood stirred awake, but here, in this quiet moment, she belonged.

— • —

The bedroom door opened softly, creaking faintly.

Hinata stepped out, comfortable in Crow’s clothing. The shirt hem brushed lightly against her thighs, sleeves enveloping her hands.

Her eyes roamed into the kitchen, lingering briefly on the fan, and then into the living room.

She looked expectant.

But the apartment was empty and still. No distant clatter, no off-key humming.

Her brow subtly furrowed, before her gaze fell upon the couch.

A figure lay beneath the familiar blanket. She approached slowly. The gentle rise and fall of the blanket told her he was still asleep, though his breathing sounded uneven.

Hinata crouched beside him. Crow lay curled on his side, face frowning. His hair was a mess across the pillow.

The blanket trembled. She paused, leaning in closer to touch his forehead.

Her breath hitched.

His skin burned under her fingertips. Hinata pulled back, eyes wide. She froze, merely staring at him for a moment.

Then she exhaled slowly, stretched her back, and straightened her spine.

There’s no time to falter. Not now.

— • —

"...What? A fever?"

Dylan mumbled as he brushed his teeth, eyebrows slightly raised. "He seemed fine last night."

Hinata stood quietly beside the couch. Her voice was low and firm, urgent.

"…It's my fault."

She glanced down at Crow, lying motionless under the blanket, and shivering slightly.

"Alright, calm down. First, get an ice pack on his forehead. Stay with him. I'll handle the rest."

Dylan paused briefly, voice softer still. "We've got you."

Hinata nodded, her tension slightly easing. “Thanks.”

After ending the call, she set the phone gently on the coffee table, then made her way toward the fridge.

Cool air drifted against her skin as she opened the freezer. She reached into the corner for the ice pack—one Crow had used before for her bruise.

She quickly returned to the couch. Hinata carefully lifted the blanket and placed the ice pack gently on his forehead, adjusting it until it rested evenly.

She settled back, eyes never leaving him.

Gradually, Crow's expression relaxed, and his breathing slowed. Hinata watched closely, anxious for improvement.

Time slipped by.

The warmth of early afternoon slowly filled the room, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

She kept one hand steady on the ice pack, checking his forehead once in a while.

DING-DONG.

The sudden ring of the doorbell made her jolt. Hinata approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole.

Her face expressed mild surprise. With a deep exhale, she unlocked the latch and opened the door.

Melissa.

Hoodie partially zipped, eyes betraying a night as restless as Hinata’s. Her posture lacked its usual casual confidence.

"…Uh. Hey," Melissa murmured, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

No bravado, no sarcasm.

Hinata’s expression didn’t warm immediately, but it wasn’t cold either. She offered a small nod, arms loose by her sides.

The silence lingered between them, as if waiting for someone to bridge the gap.