Crush Imagines

Rain.

We were meant to stay inside,
under lights, under noise,
under everything that made it easy not to feel too much.

But the rain began,
soft against the windows, like a quiet invitation.

"I'm stepping out," I said.

He didn't answer.

He just followed.

"You always do that," I murmured.

"Only when you leave first."

For a moment, we stood beneath the shade
close, but not close enough.

"Where's the right place, then?" I asked.

He looked at me

then walked into the rain.

No hesitation. No shelter.

Like he trusted it to say what he couldn't.

I followed.

Of course I did.

The rain gathered between us,
threading silence into something softer.

"Here," he said.

"Why here?"

He stepped closer,
voice slipping through the rain like it belonged there.

"Because I don't want to keep you in unfinished sentences."

My breath caught.

"And I don't want to love you in places that don't remember it."

The world faded
just rain, just him, just this.

"And if I stay?" I whispered.

He smiled, like the answer had always been mine.

"Then let the rain be the first thing that knows
I chose you before I ever said it."

P.S.:- I was hoping you'd follow me.