Chapter 3- When The Sky Breaks

Chapter 3- when the sky breaks

The rain started just after lunch.

It came down hard, the kind of rain that blurred windows and erased everything beyond the glass. Most students rushed home, umbrellas bobbing like tiny boats in a gray sea. But Yuto stayed behind, like he always did—waiting for the library to grow still, waiting for the noise to fade.

Today, though, he wasn’t alone.

Kaito stood by the window, arms crossed, his silhouette lit in pale gray. His jacket was damp, black hair dripping slightly, and his cigarette was gone—replaced with the hollow quiet he wore when he didn’t feel like pretending.

“You’re soaked,” Yuto said softly.

Kaito didn’t turn around. “I walked here without thinking.”

Yuto closed his sketchbook. “That’s new. You always think. You just never say.”

Kaito finally turned to him. “Do I?”

Yuto nodded. “Your silence is loud.”

Kaito gave a small, humorless laugh. “So is yours.”

A pause stretched between them, filled only by the steady drum of rain on the roof.

Then, out of nowhere, Kaito asked, “Do you believe in people changing?”

Yuto blinked. “What?”

“I mean… do you think someone who’s always been messed up can really become someone else? Someone better?”

It wasn’t a casual question. Not from him.

Yuto studied Kaito’s expression. His jaw was tense. His hands were clenched at his sides. Like he was bracing for something, or maybe trying to hold it in.

“I think people don’t change overnight,” Yuto said. “But they grow. Bit by bit. And sometimes the people who think they’re the most broken… end up being the ones who shine the brightest.”

Kaito looked at him, eyes softening just slightly. “That sounds like something from one of your drawings.”

“Maybe it is.”

Kaito stepped closer, slow and unsure. “Can I see it?”

Yuto hesitated, then opened his sketchbook and flipped to a page he hadn’t shown anyone. It wasn’t detailed, not yet. Just pencil lines and soft shading. A boy standing in the rain, his eyes closed, a hand outstretched toward the sky like he was waiting to be forgiven.

Kaito stared at it for a long time.

“That’s me,” he said quietly.

Yuto didn’t deny it.

Kaito looked up at him, and for the first time, his voice cracked a little. “You always make me look like I’m someone worth drawing.”

“You are.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.

It was full.

Like something had shifted between them. Like the rain had washed away a layer of armor Kaito didn’t even know he’d been wearing.

“Yuto,” he said, almost too softly to hear. “Don’t stop drawing me. Even if I disappear again.”

Yuto closed the sketchbook carefully. “Then don’t make me look for you in shadows.”

Kaito gave a quiet smile.

And for the first time, it reached his eyes.