The monsoon had turned Lumina Arts Academy into a watercolor mess puddles everywhere, the kind that splashed up your calves if you weren't careful. Pim was late for his painting critique, sketchbook tucked awkwardly under one arm, his fluffy brown hair already frizzing from the humidity. "Come on, not today" he muttered to himself, dodging a massive puddle like it was lava. His sneakers squelched with every step, and he could feel the rain seeping through his thin jacket.
He rounded the corner into the courtyard too fast bam and slammed right into what felt like a brick wall. Except it was warm and smelled faintly of wet clay and pine. His sketchbook flew from his grip, landing with a heartbreaking splash in the nearest puddle. Pages fluttered open, ink already starting to bleed.
"Oh no, no, no!" Pim yelped, scrambling to grab it. That's when he looked up.
Towering over him was Mew, the third year sculpture guy everyone whispered about. Tall, with messy black hair plastered to his forehead, sharp jawline shadowed by a days stubble, and those intense dark eyes that could probably stare down a storm. He was wrestling a huge, tarp covered sculpture arm, muscles straining under his soaked black tee. Rain dripped from his lashes, but he didn't flinch.
"S-sorry, P'Mew" Pim stammered, cheeks burning hotter than the Thai sun. He'd seen him around everyone in Painting knew the Sculpture Department's brooding legend. "I didn't see you. The rain, and my sketchbook."
Mew grunted, shifting the sculpture to one arm like it weighed nothing. He knelt without a word, fishing the soggy book from the puddle. Water sluiced off his broad shoulders as he shook it gently, then held it out. "Watch where you're running next time, nong"
His voice was low and gravelly, like thunder rumbling far off, but there was no real bite to it. Up close, Pim noticed the tiny scar on his chin maybe from a chisel slip and the way his lips quirked just a fraction, almost a smile.
Pim took the book, fingers brushing P'Mew's calloused ones. A little jolt, like static. "T-thank you! I'm pim, second year painting department. Total klutz in the rain."
"Mew, sculpture." He straightened, slinging the tarp higher. Rain pattered on the clay like impatient fingers. For a beat, their eyes locked Pim's wide and sparkling with embarrassment, Mew's steady and unreadable. Then Mew nodded once "Get inside before you drown, N'pim."
"Yeah! Thanks again!" Pim bolted, heart pounding not just from the sprint. As he glanced back, P'Mew was already walking away, sculpture in tow, but had he looked back too?
The rain kept falling, whispering secrets neither of them was ready to hear.