Monday arrived with rain.
Noah realized this before he even opened his eyes, because the sound of water against his window had been following him through the last few minutes of sleep.
It was steady and soft, not violent enough to be called a storm, but persistent enough to make the entire morning feel darker than it should have.
For a while, he remained beneath the blankets and listened to it, allowing himself the luxury of pretending that he had nowhere to be.
Then his phone vibrated.
Noah reached blindly toward the bedside table and looked at the screen.
Elias: You awake?
Noah stared at the message.
It was 7:12 in the morning.
Noah: Unfortunately.
The answer came almost immediately.
Elias: Good.
Noah frowned.
Noah: That’s a strange reaction to someone’s suffering.
Elias: Get ready.
Noah: Why?
There was a longer pause this time.
Elias: Because we’re going to school?
Noah looked toward the rain-covered window and smiled despite himself.
Noah: Right.
Elias: You forgot.
Noah: I did not.
Elias: You definitely did.
Noah: Shut up.
Elias sent him a laughing emoji.
Noah dropped his phone back onto the bed and covered his face with one hand.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Not exactly.
He had simply become used to waking up and checking whether Elias had written to him.
Somewhere during the previous week, without Noah noticing when it had happened, their morning walks had become something expected.
It was no longer Elias waiting at the corner because he didn’t know anyone else.
Noah no longer told himself that he was only being polite.
He wanted to go.
That realization should have been simple, but Noah found himself avoiding thinking about it too closely.
Twenty minutes later, he left the house with an umbrella in one hand and his backpack over his shoulder.
The rain had made the streets almost empty, and the few people outside moved quickly beneath dark umbrellas, their heads lowered against the wind.
Elias was waiting in their usual place.
He wasn’t standing beneath the streetlamp this time.
Instead, he was sitting beneath the narrow shelter of a closed bus stop, his knees pulled slightly apart and his hands buried inside the pockets of his jacket.
When he saw Noah approaching, he stood immediately.
“You’re late.”
Noah stopped in front of him.
“I am two minutes early.”
Elias looked at his phone.
“Three minutes early, actually.”
“Then why did you say I was late?”
“I wanted to see what you’d say.”
Noah stared at him.
“You’re exhausting.”
“And yet you came.”
Noah opened his umbrella.
Elias looked at it.
Then at Noah.
“No umbrella?”
Noah asked.
“I forgot.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“It’s raining.”
“I noticed.”
“And you left the house without an umbrella.”
Elias smiled.
“I was distracted.”
“By what?”
“Existing.”
Noah sighed.
“Of course.”
They began walking.
For approximately thirty seconds, Elias stayed close enough to fit beneath the umbrella with Noah.
Then the wind changed direction, and rain began hitting the side of his jacket anyway.
Noah looked at him.
“You’re going to get soaked.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Move closer.”
Elias turned his head.
“What?”
“I said move closer.”
A slow smile appeared on his face.
“Are you inviting me under your umbrella, Noah?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I would never.”
“You’re already doing it.”
Elias stepped closer.
Their shoulders pressed together beneath the umbrella, and Noah suddenly became aware of how little space there actually was.
The umbrella was large enough for two people if they stood carefully, but neither Noah nor Elias seemed particularly interested in maintaining a respectful distance.
Their arms touched every few seconds as they walked.
Noah told himself not to notice.
It didn’t work.
“You’re cold,” Elias said.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re shivering.”
“It’s raining.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Noah glanced at him.
“Why do you care?”
Elias’s expression changed slightly.
The teasing smile disappeared for a moment.
“Because I care.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Noah looked away.
“That’s dramatic.”
“You asked.”
“I didn’t ask you to be weird about it.”
Elias laughed softly.
“Sorry.”
Noah didn’t answer.
The truth was that he didn’t want Elias to apologize.
The rest of the walk passed quietly, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence Noah had known before Elias entered his life.
This one didn’t feel empty.
Noah had started noticing that there were different kinds of quiet.
There was the silence that came when two people had nothing to say to each other, and then there was the silence that came when words weren’t necessary.
With Elias, Noah was beginning to understand the difference.
By the time they reached school, Elias’s hair was damp and rain had darkened the shoulders of his jacket.
Noah looked at him.
“You look terrible.”
Elias gasped.
“That’s cruel.”
“You’re dripping.”
“I’m beautiful.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Same thing.”
Noah laughed.
Elias stared at him for a second.
“What?”
“You laugh more now.”
The words caught Noah off guard.
He stopped smiling.
“What do you mean?”
Elias shrugged.
“I don’t know.
When I first met you, you looked like you were constantly thinking about something.”
“I still am.”
“Yeah, but now you laugh.”
Noah looked away.
“You’ve known me for two weeks.”
“Long enough.”
Noah shook his head and started walking toward the entrance.
Elias followed him.
Noah didn’t see the expression on Elias’s face after that, but if he had, he might have understood that Elias had noticed more about him than Noah realized.
The day passed slowly.
Rain continued falling outside the classroom windows, and the entire school seemed to have fallen into a collective state of exhaustion.
Students stared at clocks, teachers repeated themselves, and by lunchtime, nearly everyone had begun complaining about the weather.
Noah and Elias sat together in the cafeteria.
Maya joined them a few minutes later.
She placed her tray on the table and looked directly at Noah.
“Why is your jacket wet?”
Noah continued eating.
“Rain.”
Maya looked at Elias.
“And yours?”
“Also rain.”
Her eyes moved between them.
Noah knew that look.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I’m always thinking something.”
“Unfortunately.”
Elias looked at Maya.
“Is he always this paranoid?”
“Yes.”
Noah put down his fork.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Mine.”
Elias smiled.
Noah sighed.
Maya watched them for a moment, then shook her head.
“You two have become unbearable.”
“We’ve known each other for two weeks,” Noah said.
“Exactly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I already know you’re going to start finishing each other’s sentences soon.”
Elias looked at Noah.
Noah looked at Elias.
“That’s never going to happen,” they said at the same time.
Maya slowly leaned back in her chair.
Neither Noah nor Elias spoke.
Then Elias smiled.
Noah tried not to.
Maya pointed at them.
“That.”
“It was a coincidence,” Noah said.
“Sure.”
“It was.”
Elias took a drink.
Noah looked at him.
“Don’t encourage her.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You smiled.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Unfortunately.”
Elias laughed.
Maya looked between them and said nothing else, but Noah knew her well enough to understand that she was storing the entire conversation somewhere in her mind for later use.
After school, the rain finally stopped.
The clouds remained heavy, but the air smelled cleaner, and water still glistened on the pavement beneath the fading afternoon light.
Noah and Elias walked home together as usual, although their route had become slower lately.
Neither of them ever seemed to be in a hurry to reach the point where they had to separate.
That afternoon, they didn’t go directly home.
It happened without a discussion.
They reached the corner where Noah usually turned left and Elias continued straight.
Neither of them moved.
Elias looked down the road.
Then at Noah.
“So.”
“So?”
“You want to go home?”
Noah looked at the street ahead.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
“I was hoping you’d make the decision.”
Noah smiled.
“You’re hopeless.”
“I’ve been told.”
There was a small park only a few streets away.
It wasn’t particularly special, but it had a hill overlooking the edge of the neighborhood and a few old benches that most people ignored.
Noah nodded toward the road.
“Come on.”
Elias followed without asking where they were going.
They reached the park several minutes later.
The ground was still wet from the rain, and drops of water fell occasionally from the branches above them.
Noah walked toward the hill while Elias followed close behind.
When they reached the top, Elias stopped.
The neighborhood stretched below them.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” Noah said.
“You can admit it.”
Elias looked at him.
“Admit what?”
“That I made a good decision.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“You like it.”
“It’s acceptable.”
Noah smiled.
“That means you like it.”
Elias walked past him and sat on the damp grass.
Noah stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“What?”
“The ground is wet.”
Elias looked down.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sitting in it.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to ruin your clothes.”
Elias looked up at him.
“Come sit down.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.”
Elias smiled.
“You’re boring.”
Noah crossed his arms.
Elias waited.
After several seconds, Noah sighed and sat beside him.
The grass was cold.
He immediately regretted it.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Noah looked at him.
Elias was staring at the sky.
“No,” Noah said quietly.
“I don’t.”
The words slipped out before he could think about them.
Elias turned toward him.
Noah felt his face grow warm.
“I mean, I don’t hate you.”
“I know what you meant.”
“You don’t have to look so pleased about it.”
“I can’t help it.”
Noah shook his head.
They remained there for a while.
The clouds were beginning to break apart, revealing small pieces of blue above them.
A few birds crossed the sky in the distance.
Somewhere below, a dog barked, and a car passed along the main road.
Elias lay back on the grass.
Noah stayed sitting.
“Do you ever think about the future?” Elias asked.
Noah looked down at him.
“Everyone does.”
“Not like that.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Elias folded his hands behind his head.
“I mean, really think about it.”
Noah was quiet.
Elias continued.
“Like where you’ll be in five years.
Who you’ll be with.
What your life will look like.”
Noah looked toward the sky.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s your answer to everything.”
“Because I don’t know everything.”
“You don’t have to.”
Noah thought for a moment.
“Okay.
What about you?”
Elias smiled slightly.
“I want a house.”
Noah looked at him.
“That’s specific.”
“I know.”
“What kind of house?”
“Something small.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
“That’s it?”
Elias looked at him.
“No.”
Noah waited.
“Near the ocean.”
The answer made Noah smile.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“You seem like the kind of person who’d want to live near the ocean.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.
You just do.”
Elias looked back at the sky.
“I like the idea that the world is bigger than us.”
Noah frowned slightly.
“What?”
“The ocean.
You stand in front of it, and you realize how small you are.
All your problems, everything you think matters…
it’s still there.
Bigger than all of it.”
Noah looked at him.
For the first time that day, Elias seemed completely serious.
“What else?” Noah asked.
“What?”
“You said you want a house near the ocean.
What else is in this future?”
Elias thought about it.
“A dog.”
Noah laughed.
“One dog?”
“Maybe two.”
“That’s too much.”
“Dogs aren’t too much.”
“Two dogs are.”
Elias smiled.
“What about you?”
Noah leaned back on his hands.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
Noah looked toward the horizon.
“Maybe I’d travel.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere far away.”
Elias laughed quietly.
“You still don’t have a place in mind.”
“No.”
“Then how are you going to get there?”
Noah looked at him.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“When?”
“Someday.”
Elias stared at him for a second.
Then he held out his hand.
Noah frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Promise.”
“What?”
“That someday we’ll go somewhere far away.”
Noah looked at his hand.
“That’s stupid.”
“Probably.”
“We don’t even know each other that well.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Elias’s expression softened.
“The point is that one day, I want to be able to look back and know that we actually did the things we talked about.”
Noah didn’t know why those words affected him.
Perhaps because nobody had ever included him in their future so casually before.
Or perhaps because Elias said it as though it were obvious.
As though Noah would be there.
Noah looked down at his hand.
Then he took it.
“Okay.”
Elias’s fingers closed around his.
For one second, neither of them moved.
Noah felt the warmth of his hand against his own.
It was nothing.
Just a promise between two friends.
That was what Noah told himself.
They had only known each other for two weeks.
There was no reason for his heart to beat faster.
No reason to remember the exact shape of Elias’s fingers around his own.
No reason to wonder why neither of them let go immediately.
“Promise,” Elias said.
Noah looked at him.
“Promise.”
The first star appeared above them shortly afterward.
Then another.
Noah looked toward the sky.
“So far away,” he said quietly.
Elias didn’t answer immediately.
When Noah turned his head, Elias was already looking at him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“But maybe not forever.”
Noah frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Elias smiled and looked away.
“Nothing.”
Noah pushed his shoulder.
“I hate when you do that.”
“What?”
“Say something mysterious and then refuse to explain.”
“I’ll explain someday.”
“You’d better.”
Elias laughed.
They stayed on the hill until the sky became too dark to ignore and Noah’s jacket had begun to absorb the cold from the wet ground.
When they finally stood, Elias brushed the grass from his clothes and looked at Noah.
“Same time tomorrow?”
Noah smiled.
“Obviously.”
Neither of them noticed how easily the word had come.
Neither of them noticed that somewhere between a school hallway and a rainy morning, walking home had become waiting for each other.
And neither of them understood that one day Noah would remember this afternoon and wish with everything inside him that he could return to it, not to change anything, but simply to sit beside Elias one more time beneath the open sky and hear him say that maybe some distances were not forever.
Back then, though, Noah was seventeen and Elias was only eighteen, and the future still seemed like an endless road stretching ahead of them.
They had time.
They believed that.
They believed it completely.