It started raining just after noon.
Not a soft drizzle, but a sudden, determined kind of rain that came out of nowhere. One minute the sky was clear, the next it was blanketed in grey. I was curled up on the couch, halfway through a book I wasn't really absorbing, when I heard the shift in the wind — the kind that makes you look up even if you're not sure why.
I glanced outside.
And there he was.
Alan.
Standing out on the beach, his back to me, hands in his pockets, like the rain hadn't just started pouring around him.
For a second, I wasn't sure what to do.
But then I was at the door, opening it.
"Are you seriously going to stand out there like that?" I called out.
He turned slightly. "I didn't think it'd rain."
"It's been grey all morning."
He shrugged, completely unfazed by the fact that he was getting drenched.
"Come inside," I said, already stepping back to make room. "Unless you're trying to catch a cold. Which, knowing you, wouldn't surprise me."
He didn't hesitate. Just walked up the porch steps and followed me in, water dripping from the ends of his hair. I handed him a towel without saying anything, and he took it with a small nod.
"You always this stubborn?" I asked, closing the door behind us.
"Not always."
I gave him a look but didn't press it. The rain hit the windows harder now, steady and loud.
"I was going to make hot cocoa," I said, moving toward the kitchen. "You want some?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"Is it the instant kind?"
I turned to look at him. "What other kind is there?"
He smiled, just slightly. "Then yeah. I'll take some."
I shook my head, but I was already pulling mugs from the cabinet. A few minutes passed in quiet as I boiled water, added the cocoa mix, and poured everything out. He'd taken a seat by the fireplace, towel still draped around his shoulders, his hair now slightly tousled.
I handed him a mug and sat down on the floor across from him.
"It's not fancy," I said, "but it's warm."
"Warm is good."
The rain kept tapping at the windows like it was trying to be part of the conversation. I leaned back against the couch, legs stretched out, cocoa warming my hands.
"This cottage has a stash of books and board games," I said, nodding toward the corner shelf. "I found them when I first got here. Some of them look older than me."
He turned his head, eyes scanning the shelf. "I used to play some of those."
"You 'used to'?"
"Yeah," he said simply, not looking at me. "A long time ago."
I raised a brow but let it go.
"I was thinking of reading something," I said. "But I'm not sure I'm in the mood to focus."
"What kind of mood are you in?"
I shrugged. "The 'sit by the fire and talk to someone who doesn't ask too many questions' kind."
"Lucky for you," he said, "I'm good at that."
I looked at him, surprised by the ease in his voice. He was drier now, hair still a little damp at the edges, but the way he sat — calm, settled — made it feel like he belonged here.
"Okay then," I said. "If we're talking, you start."
He gave me a look. "That's not how it works."
"It is now."
A pause. Then: "What do you want to know?"
I thought for a second. "What's your favorite time of day?"
"Late evening," he said. "When the light starts to fade, but it's not dark yet."
I nodded. "That's a good one."
"Yours?"
"Early morning," I said. "When it's quiet and everything feels clean. Like the day hasn't had a chance to ruin anything yet."
He smiled again, and for some reason, I felt it in my chest.
"What else?" he asked.
"Hmm," I said, sipping my cocoa. "What's something you've always wanted to do, but never did?"
His expression shifted just slightly.
"Travel again," he said. "See places I missed."
"You still could," I said.
He looked at me. "Maybe."
We talked for what felt like hours — about nothing, about everything. Favorite books, songs we used to love, the worst food we'd ever eaten. I don't remember when I started laughing, but once I did, I didn't stop for a while.
He was funny. Dry and subtle, but unexpectedly sharp when he wanted to be. And every once in a while, he'd look at me in this quiet way — like I was something he hadn't seen in a long time.
The fire crackled softly behind us.
"I haven't laughed like this in a while," I said, after a long breath.
He looked at me. "I know."
The room went still for a moment… like the space between us got quieter somehow.
"I should let you go," I said, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to.
He stood slowly, finishing the last of his cocoa. I followed him to the door, the rain now nothing more than a light drizzle.
"Thanks for the cocoa," he said, towel in one hand, eyes steady on mine.
"Thanks for not getting pneumonia," I replied.
He smiled once more, then stepped out, disappearing into the grey light like he was never really there to begin with.