The sun was almost too bright that morning, like the weather was trying to overcompensate for yesterday's storm.
Aki walked through the school courtyard with Haru's umbrella in hand, the handle warm from his grip.
He'd planned this — wait for a sunny day, give it back casually, maybe tease Haru about the "Rain Rules" again.
It felt like a good way to end the week.
He spotted Haru near the front gate.
But Haru wasn't alone.
A girl stood beside him, laughing at something he'd said.
Haru's eyes crinkled the same way they always did when he was genuinely happy.
The umbrella in Aki's hand suddenly felt heavy.
He froze. Watched.
Tried to convince himself it didn't mean anything.
But the warmth from yesterday had already gone cold.
The handle slipped from his fingers.
The umbrella hit the ground with a dull thud.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled.
Dark clouds bled across the sky faster than they should have.
By the time the first drop of rain touched his cheek, Aki was already running.
---
Aki's Room — Evening
Rain streaked the glass of his window, the sound hollow and endless.
He sat on his bed, hair damp, heart heavier than he could carry.
His journal lay open in front of him.
> I was going to give it back.
I thought it would mean something.
Maybe it still does… but not to him.
Haru's umbrella is probably still lying in the courtyard.
I don't think I'll go back for it.
---
The next morning, Haru didn't come looking for him.
And Aki didn't go looking for Haru.
Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months.
They never crossed paths again.
The rain kept falling, sometimes light, sometimes heavy.
But Aki never shared another umbrella.
---
Binary — last page of the journal:
> 01000111 01101111 01101111 01100100 01100010 01111001 01100101 00101110