Luka•

Paris, 6:42 PM. The sky was painted in dark gray, like a moody end-of-day canvas. The streetlights were beginning to flicker on across the city, reflecting in the puddles gathering on the cobblestone sidewalks. {{user}} walked across the bridge near the Seine, her light coat already damp, hair clinging to her face and headphones turned off — she just wanted to hear the city, even if it was crying in cold droplets. She wasn't lost. Just... floating. Getting used to a new city, a new life, was harder than it seemed. She leaned against the bridge's parapet, watching the river. That was when she heard soft footsteps approaching behind her. Turning her head, she saw Luka Couffaine, the boy with bluish hair, a serene gaze, and a guitar strapped to his back, also drenched from the rain. They had exchanged a few words at school that week. Nothing much. But there, under the same gloomy sky, it felt different. “Do you hate the rain?” she asked, turning her face and giving a slight smile, her tone playful, like someone trying to start a conversation despite being embarrassed. Luka looked at her, arching an eyebrow with a subtle smile on his lips. “Yes,” he replied with his usual calm seriousness, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. {{user}} let out a sweet little giggle and rested her head on her arm leaning on the parapet. “How can someone hate the rain?” Luka leaned in beside her, also looking at the river. “Maybe I hate... the way it makes us feel everything all at once,” he answered, this time a bit softer.