The first Monday back after Christmas break was soaked in grey skies and bone-deep rain. The kind that blurred windows, soaked through uniforms, and made everything feel just a little heavier.
The locker room buzzed with laughter and the sharp slap of wet trainers on tile. Lucifer Haven leaned back on the bench, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he tossed a towel at one of his mates.
"Oi, can't believe you actually got a buzz cut over the holiday," he said, laughing. "Looks like your mum took a lawnmower to your head."
Everyone cracked up. The guy in question rolled his eyes and shoved Lucifer back, but even that was done with a smile. That was the thing about Lucifer—he made everything look effortless. Like he belonged at the center of every room, like he'd been born to be adored.
But in the middle of the noise, his eyes drifted to the fogged-up window on the far wall. Rain slid down in fat, slow drops, warping the view of the empty football field outside.
For just a moment, his smile faded.
Everyone loves me… but why do I still feel alone?
A sharp whistle snapped him back. The PE teacher shouted for them to head out. Lucifer blinked, plastered the grin back on, and shoved himself up from the bench.
"Let's go, legends," he called out, already moving.
No one saw the way his hand lingered on the locker door.
Down the hall, the art room was a different universe. Quiet. Dim. Safe.
Jasper Kaloki sat hunched over his sketchpad at the back of the classroom, legs curled under the stool, pencil in hand. He'd told the office he twisted his ankle over the break. Classic. Easy. No one asked too many questions when you were invisible.
On the page, the storm outside took form in black graphite—the curves of wind, the blurred edges of rain. And in the middle of it all stood a faceless boy, hands in his coat pockets, completely alone.
He didn't need to give the boy a face. He already knew who it was.
The sudden crash of a dropped glass from the hallway made him jump, his pencil jerking across the page. He sucked in a breath and stared at the ruined line. Not again.
The door creaked. Jasper tensed.
But it was just Miss Lane, the art teacher. "You alright, Jasper?"
He didn't look up. "Yeah. Just tired."
She hesitated at the doorway, as if she might say more. But then she nodded and left.
Jasper exhaled slowly, then erased the crooked line.
By lunch, the storm hadn't let up.
Jasper sat alone at a small table near the back of the dining hall, his sketchpad open again. He wasn't drawing anymore, just dragging his pencil back and forth across the paper like a heartbeat he didn't want to hear.
He liked sitting by the doors that led out to the field. No one ever sat here, and he could pretend the weather was the only thing watching him.
But then, he wasn't alone anymore.
Lucifer Haven broke away from a crowd of laughing boys, phone in hand, voice low. He was walking quickly, looking for somewhere quieter—and didn't seem to notice where he'd ended up until he was standing right next to Jasper's table.
He glanced down and froze for half a second.
Jasper looked up.
Their eyes met.
Time blurred like the window beside them. The laughter in the background faded beneath the gentle roar of rain on the glass.
No words. No movement.
Just a moment.
Jasper's eyes flicked away first. He turned the page and bent his head low, pretending he hadn't felt anything.
Lucifer didn't move. Not yet.
Why does he look like he's hiding from the world? Lucifer wondered.
Don't trust good-looking people. Especially not him, Jasper thought.
Then Lucifer's phone buzzed. He blinked, answered it, and walked away with a quiet, "Yeah, Leo—I'll send it now."
Jasper stared down at the blank page.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Inside, something had just begun.