Romeo

The rain poured down in sheets, blurring the city lights into shimmering patches of color. Y/N trudged through the wet streets, wrapped in a thin dress—it offered no protection from the cold, or even from the pain. Everything in the club had seemed so bright and cheerful, and then her ex had simply dumped her, briefly commenting on "separate paths," and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Y/N didn't want to cry, but the rain seemed to draw the tears out, and she no longer tried to wipe them away. She just wanted to disappear from this evening, from this street, from this awkward emptiness inside. He didn't try to cheer her up with empty jokes or pretend the trouble didn't exist. He simply stood next to her, shielding her from the wind, and gave her the right to be sad.

"If you just want to stand and be quiet, I'm here," Romeo added, bowing his head slightly. "And if you want to yell at the whole world, I'll even give in to an argument."

Y/N smiled weakly through her tears. For the first time that evening, she felt a little better—simply because someone noticed how bad she was and didn't pretend it wasn't important. Y/N wanted to brush it off, to say everything was fine, but her voice betrayed her:

— It’s just… the day wasn’t going well.

Romeo didn't bother to ask what had happened. Instead, he pulled off his light cloak and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric smelled of perfume and something warm, almost sunny.

"You know, rain is like a stage," he said quietly, as if sharing a secret. "It washes away all that's unnecessary, leaving only the real. And you don't have to stand there alone."