The rain had been falling since dawn.
Outside The Coastal Brew, the sea and the sky looked the same, still gray and cold. Waves crashing over one after another like a restless thoughts. The streets were empty, and the cafe was quiet except for the soft sound of the rain hitting the rooftop, windows, and the cobblestones outside.
Elena worked quietly behind the counter, but her hands moved slower than usual. The gossip she had heard days ago still stayed in her heart, like a smoke that wouldn't go away. No matter how many smiles she gave or how many cups or desserts she served, the heavy feeling didn't leave.
Adrian noticed.
He always did.
That afternoon, he appeared at the door of The Coastal Brew. His jacket was wet, and drops of rain dripping slightly out of his hair. When their eyes met, she felt the familiar mix of comfort and pain. He smiled faintly, stepping closer.
"Busy day?" he asked.
"Not really," she said softly. "Just quiet."
He looked at her face for a moment. "You're still thinking about what people said, aren't you?"
Elena sighed, her grip tightening around the cloth she had been using to dry cups. "I'm trying not to, but it's hard to forget once you've heard them."
Adrian's voice grew gentle. "Then let me try something."
Before she could ask, he reached out and held her hand. His palm was warm, soothing, even after being outside in the rain. "Let's get out of here after your shift ends."
Scythe nodded as her response. She looks up to the clock, and saw she only has a few hours left before her shift ends.
Hours later, they walked along the coast, the heavy rain had turned into droplets. The air smelled like salt and wet earth. Seagulls cried above them, their cries distant and sharp. They didn't talk, but the silence felt calm, not awkward. It felt like a quiet space where both of them could breath.
Eventually, they reached the small cottage Elena rented near the cliffs. Inside, the light was soft and, dim, filtered through by rain stained windows. She made tea while Adrian stood by next to the window, studying her every movements.
Then his gaze landed on something else: a worn leather-bound sketchbook, resting half-open on the table.
He hesitated, "Is this yours?"
Elena turned, eyes quickly widening as she realize he meant THAT sketchbook. "Oh... yes. That's my old one. Please don't-"
But before she could stop him, he had already picked it up. Not out of curiousity, but respect and awe.
The pages were worn out, the edges smudged with charcoal and pencil. Inside were sketches of The Coastal Brew, the pier, the stars over the sea. And between them... Drawings of his face.
Adrian froze.
There were page after page showed his face. Some drawn from memory, others clearly from moments he hadn't noticed her looking, his figure against the sunset, his hand reaching for a cup, his reflection in the cafe window.
"Elena..." His voice tremble slightly. "You drew me."
Her heart pounded. "I... ah... yes. I didn't mean for you to see those. They were just... moments I didn't want to forget."
He turned another page, revealing a sketch of him smiling, a very rare one, unguarded expression she'd caught one morning at the pier. Beneath it, she had written a line in small handwriting:
So even when he's far away, I'll remember the light.
Adrian's throat tightened. He looked at her, eyes soft with something beyond words. "You remembered me like this?"
Elena felt heat rise to her cheeks. "It helped me when you were gone. Drawing you... it was like talking to you without needing words."
He sat down beside her, still holding the sketchbook. "Elena, do you know what it means to me?"
She shook her head gently.
"It means," he said, voice low and rough, "that even when the everyone saw me as a soldier or as someone broken... You saw me as a person. Someone worth remembering."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Of course you are."
He reached out, touching her hand gently over the table. "You don't know how many nights I thought I'd disappear from everyone's memory. Like I'd just fade out of this world and no one would notice. But you... you kept me alive in here." He tapped the sketchbook softly.
They sat in silence, the sound of rain filling the room like a quiet lullaby. Then Adrian opened to a blank page near the back, picked up her pencil, and began to draw.
Elena watched, looking puzzled, as his hand moved carefully across the paper. He wasn't an artist, his lines were uneven, his shading rough, but there was sincerity in every stroke. When he finished, he turned the sketch toward her.
It was her, sitting by the window at The Coastal Brew, her hair tied up loosely, a faint smile on her lips as sunlight smeared across her face.
Below, he had written:
So I'll remember the light too.
Her breath caught. "Adrian..."
He smiled softly. "Now we both have something that will never fade."
Elena felt her heart swell, her chest aching in that sweet, painful way love often brings. "You're bad at drawing proportions," she teased him through her tears.
He laughed, really laughed this time, and it was the most beautiful sound she'd heard all day. "Then I guess you'll have to teach me."
That night, after Adrian left, she sat with the sketchbook open on her lap. On one page was his face, on the other was hers. Two imperfect portraits facing each other, bound by paper and pencil and promise.
She traced the pencil marks he'd made and whispered into the quiet, "This is our proof, isn't it? That even if the world forgets, we won't."
The rain outside had stopped. Through her window, the stars began to appear again. As he looked at them, she knew. No matter what lay ahead, their story always find its way back to light.