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The first drops came soft and scattered, barely more than pinpricks on the balcony railing.
Gem sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, the chipped ceramic of her tea mug resting against one thigh. The steam had faded. She hadn’t taken a sip in minutes. Just watching.
The streetlights below flickered gently in the rising humidity, their glow slightly blurred by the thickening rain. Somewhere far off, thunder grumbled a low, slow sound like someone turning over in their sleep.
The balcony door creaked open behind her. A second pair of footsteps. Softer.
Pearl.
She stepped out slowly, sleeves pulled over her hands, gaze flicking briefly toward the sky before settling on the far edge of the railing.
“I thought I heard rain,” she said, more to herself than to Gem.
“You did.” Gem didn’t turn her head, but the smile in her voice was quiet and obvious.
Pearl edged closer, not quite beside her, but close enough to share the same patch of evening air. She didn’t sit. Just folded her arms and leaned her weight slightly against the railing, chin tipped up toward the clouds.
They stayed like that for a while. No conversation. No need.
The drizzle thickened. Rain tapped against the awning above them, slow at first, then more insistently, as if it had made up its mind. Wind stirred the curtain inside the doorway.
“You can head in if you want,” Gem murmured, voice half-swallowed by the growing storm. “I’ll probably stay a bit.”
Pearl didn’t move. “I don’t mind.”
Gem glanced sideways. Pearl was watching the sky like she was waiting for it to look back. Her posture was straight—too straight. Hands still tucked into her sleeves, jaw slightly clenched. She blinked a little more often than usual.
Thunder cracked again, closer this time.
Pearl’s shoulders twitched, so subtly it could’ve been missed. But Gem didn’t miss it.
“You alright?” she asked, softly.
Pearl hesitated. Her answer was a beat late. “Yeah. Just… sudden, that’s all.”
Gem didn’t press. She just pulled her mug closer and let the sound of the rain fill the space between them.
Another minute passed. The storm built in the distance, slow but steady, layering in waves, like it was testing the weight of the air.
Pearl shifted slightly. Her fingers curled tighter inside her sleeves. She tilted her head like she was listening for something beneath the thunder.
She said, trying to keep it light: “Storms used to bother me when I was a kid. Guess it never really wore off.”
Gem finally spoke, tone low. “Yeah. I used to get scared, too.”
Pearl looked at her. Just briefly.
“I still do, sometimes,” Gem added, eyes on the rain. “Not just storms. Noise. Sudden stuff. Feels like my brain forgets how to stay inside my body.”
Pearl didn’t respond right away. But something in her shoulders slackened by degrees.
The rain kept falling.
Gem took a breath and said, “When it gets bad, I try to ground myself.”
Pearl turned her head. “How?”
Gem tilted her face toward the storm. “I name stuff. What I can feel. See. Hear. It’s like—reminding myself I’m here. That it’s just a moment.”
Pearl was quiet.
Then: “…Like what?”
Gem smiled faintly, nudging her mug against her knuckles. “Right now?”
A breath. “I can feel my mug. The chipped part by my thumb. The heat’s almost gone. I can see… that puddle by the fire escape, and the way the light catches in it. I can hear the rain. The thunder. You breathing.”
Pearl blinked.
“Sometimes,” Gem added, “that’s enough.”
Pearl looked away again. Slowly. She uncurled one hand from her sleeve and brushed a knuckle against the cold railing.
Then quietly: “The air smells like ozone.”
Gem smiled a little. “Yeah. That’s a good one.”
“…My sleeves are soft.”
She nodded. “Also good.”
Pearl looked down at her own hands. “The metal’s cold. On the railing.”
Gem hummed approvingly, “Mhm, keep going.”
“I can hear you breathing too,” she said, after a moment. Then, quieter, “That counts, right?”
Gem turned her head just slightly. Her expression didn’t change, but something in her chest softened.
“Yeah,” she said. “It counts.”
Pearl didn’t answer, but she didn’t retreat either. The edge of her jaw relaxed.
The thunder cracked again—sharper this time. It rolled deep through the city, rattling windows somewhere in the distance.
Pearl stiffened.
She didn’t say anything, but the tension in her shoulders spoke for her. Gem noticed, quietly, and turned toward her without shifting the mood.
“Music helps me too sometimes,” she said, voice low. “Wanna try?”
Pearl blinked, glancing over. The rain pattered steadily between them.
After a breath, she gave a small nod.
Gem fished around in her jean pocket and came up with a tragically tangled pair of earbuds. She made a face at them—“Give me a second”—and began to unravel them with the ease of a neurodivergent person who spent countless hours diving through articles on knot theory.
Pearl waited, still hugging her arms close. Not relaxed, but not closed-off either.
Finally, Gem plugged them in, handed one over wordlessly, and scooted just a little closer so the cord would reach. Pearl accepted it, tucking it gently into her ear.
Gem tapped her phone once. Then again. A familiar piano line faded into the space between them.
Pearl blinked in surprise. “Hamilton?”
Gem grinned, nodding. “I like this one,” she murmured. “And I think Wait for It is a pretty fitting title for right now.”
The melody filtered in slow and sure. Restrained at first, pulsing beneath the rainfall. Strings, soft percussion, and Leslie Odom Jr.’s voice weaving steady through it all.
Pearl didn’t speak. But she listened.
The earbuds tugged them physically closer—just enough for shoulders to brush. Their heads tilted toward one another, unconsciously sharing heat. A strand of Gem’s hair brushed Pearl’s cheek before floating down again.
Gem gently swayed to the beat.
Nothing dramatic, just small movements even she didn’t seem aware of. Her head nodded gently, shoulders rolling ever so slightly. She mouthed the lyrics in time, not singing, but every word was familiar on her lips, her mouth shaping them with the ease of muscle memory.
Her hand tapped out rhythm on her mug. Her head bobbed a little. She was completely at ease.
Pearl closed her eyes. She recognized the tune—it had come up on curated playlists before, and she’d half-listened out of curiosity. It hadn’t struck her then.
It did now.
The melody was familiar, she didn’t know the words, but she could follow. She hummed under her breath, matching the line.
Gem’s voice stayed small but present beside her, pulsing like the bassline under everything.
Outside, the rain softened just a little, blending with the piano like it belonged.
And for a long, warm moment, nothing needed to be said.
The track faded, replaced by the next on shuffle. Neither of them made a move to skip it. They just sat there, side by side, tethered by a wire and the shared rhythm of something gentle.
Eventually, Pearl murmured, barely above the hum of the rain, “Thanks… for this.”
Gem’s reply came just as softly. “Anytime.”
Another flash lit up the skyline.
The thunder came later, distant now.
And for a few more minutes, they just stayed there, listening, leaning in, and not quite ready to move.
The storm hadn’t stopped, but it had softened—no longer fierce, just steady. The kind of rain that blurred windows and made the air smell green. Somewhere far off, another rumble rolled low and distant. Harmless now. The sky was still overcast, fading toward a misty indigo. Streetlights below flickered on in patches, their glow catching the raindrops as they fell.
Pearl shifted beside her, slowly pulling the earbud from her ear. “We should probably head in.”
Gem nodded, but neither of them moved right away.
She unplugged the buds with a firm tug. The absence of music left a stillness between them, but not an empty one—just quiet in a different way.
Pearl stood first. Adjusted her sleeves. Gem followed a second later, holding the crumpled earbuds in her palm.
As they turned toward the sliding door, Gem’s hand drifted toward Pearl’s—hesitant, a slow inch forward across the air like something subconscious.
But she pulled back before she made contact.
Pearl didn’t notice. She was already looking inside, one hand on the frame.
Gem exhaled, not quite a sigh, eyes flicking back to the skyline.
Her voice was soft when she spoke. “You can always come out here with me. If it ever gets too loud.”
Pearl paused in the doorway.
She looked at Gem, and smiled.
Pearl gave her a nod. Small. Steady.
And that would be enough.
She stepped through the door first. Her shoulder brushed lightly against Gem’s on the way in.
Gem followed, the door clicking shut behind them as the rain continued to fall.