Rain and Reckoning

The wind carries the scent of salt and rain.

Even before the first droplet falls, I feel the storm coming. The air grows heavy, thick with moisture, the sky deepening from a soft blue to a restless grey. The waves crash harder against the shore, their rhythm shifting, the tide pulling higher as if the sea itself can sense what's approaching.

But the work does not stop.

Elias and I haul crates, stack barrels, and move sacks of grain from the docks to the storage shed, our muscles burning with the effort. The weight of the cargo presses into my arms, my breath steady but measured.

It is not the work I was made for, but it is work nonetheless.

Elias groans beside me, dropping a crate onto the wooden planks of the dock. "I think my back just broke."

I roll my eyes. "You'll live."

"Will I?" He stretches, rolling his shoulders. "Manual labour isn't exactly my thing."

I smirk. "You mean effort isn't your thing."

He scowls. "I put effort into things that matter."

"Like complaining?"

Elias narrows his eyes, but before he can retort, a low rumble shakes the sky.

Then—

The first raindrop lands on my cheek.

——

By the time we finish hauling the last crate, the rain is pouring.

The docks are slick with water, the scent of wet wood and damp rope filling the air. The villagers move quickly, pulling tarps over their stalls, gathering baskets and crates before the storm worsens.

Elias exhales sharply, pushing back his soaked hood. "Fantastic. Just fantastic."

I brush my wet hair out of my face, blinking through the droplets clinging to my lashes. The cold bites at my skin, the wind cutting through the damp fabric of my clothes.

Isolde—our new employer—steps toward us, tossing a small coin pouch into Elias's hands.

"Not bad for first-timers," she says. "Don't spend it all at the tavern."

Elias snorts, tucking the pouch away. "No promises."

I glance around at the storm, rain dripping from the ends of my sleeves.

"Where do we stay?" I ask.

Isolde shrugs. "Velia doesn't have an inn. Closest thing would be asking around for a spare room, but most homes are full. Unless you've got coin for a ride inland, you'll have to settle for whatever shelter you can find."

Elias scowls. "And by 'shelter' you mean…?"

Isolde gestures toward a small storage shed near the docks. "Could sleep in there if you don't mind the smell of grain and fish. It's dry, at least."

I nod. "We'll take it."

Elias stares at me. "Will we?"

I give him a look. "Do you have a better idea?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Scowls harder.

Isolde smirks. "Thought so."

——

The shed is small, cramped, and smells exactly as promised—grain, wood, and the faint trace of salted fish.

But it is dry.

I sit against the far wall, my soaked clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. Elias groans as he drops onto the wooden floor beside me, running a hand through his wet hair.

"This is miserable," he mutters.

I sigh, rubbing warmth into my arms. "It's not that bad."

Elias gives me a look. "You're shivering."

I ignore him.

Because he's right.

The cold is sinking into my skin, my body tightening against the chill. My damp clothes make it worse, the fabric clinging, refusing to warm. My fingers twitch slightly as I pull my knees up to my chest, tucking my hands against my body for heat.

Elias watches me for a moment.

Then—without a word—he shifts closer.

——

His body is warm.

Even through his soaked clothes, he is warm.

I freeze as he casually—too casually—leans against me, his shoulder pressing into mine, his weight familiar yet too present in the cramped space.

"What are you—"

"Shut up," Elias mutters. "You're cold. I'm warm. Basic problem-solving."

I blink.

Then—slowly—I smirk.

"Basic problem-solving?" I echo, tilting my head. "That's what we're calling it?"

Elias huffs. "Would you rather freeze?"

I hum, pretending to consider. Then, testing, I shift slightly closer—just a breath, just enough for my arm to brush against his side.

Elias does not pull away.

Interesting.

I feel the warmth of his presence, the way his body radiates heat even through the damp fabric of his clothes. My skin prickles with awareness, my breath steady but too aware of the closeness between us.

This is… comfortable.

Too comfortable.

And so, naturally—

I make it worse.

——

I shift again—just barely—until my cheek almost rests against his shoulder.

Elias tenses.

It's subtle, so subtle, but I feel it—the way his breathing catches, the way his fingers flex slightly against his knee.

I smirk.

"You're acting weird," Elias mutters.

I glance up at him through my lashes, innocent. "Am I?"

He narrows his eyes.

"You're enjoying this," he accuses.

I do not deny it.

His scowl deepens, but he does not move away.

And that?

That is enough of an answer.

——

The rain continues outside, hammering against the wooden walls, the wind howling through the gaps in the structure.

The storm will pass.

But for now, we are here.

Huddled together in the dim light, closer than we should be, warmer than we expected to be.

And neither of us moves.