WHEN IT RAINS

𝟭𝟮﹕checking the lost & found

it hadn't rained in days, which was a strange change after the constant drizzle that had been hanging over the school for so long. y/n found herself appreciating the clear skies, even if it meant the walk to school wasn't quite as exciting anymore. she hadn't even thought about the lost and found bin in what felt like forever, the idea of grabbing an umbrella a distant thought.

it had slipped her mind completely.

the days blurred together with school, assignments, and other activities. somehow, the habit of going to the teacher's lounge after class just... stopped. it wasn't intentional. it wasn't like she didn't care. it was just that with no rain, there was no need for an umbrella. and if there was no umbrella, then there was no reason to visit the lost and found bin.

however today, after the last class, y/n had to drop something off to one of her teachers. on the way to the office, she passed by the lounge, her gaze idly flickering toward the corner where the bin usually sat

curiosity tugged at her. why not check?

when she stepped inside, the familiar sight of the lost and found greeted her, but it wasn't what she expected. folded neatly, tucked into the corner of the bin, were a few crumpled notes.

y/n raised an eyebrow, walking closer to get a better look. the notes were a mess of scribbled words.

"still haven't answered me, huh?" one note read, followed by another that simply said, "i guess i'm not important enough for a reply."

y/n's lips curled into a small smile despite herself. the last note was the most amusing.

"you're starting to look like you're avoiding me now. guess i'll just keep writing these. we'll see how long it takes before you realise."

"i can't believe that my umbrella and i were only important to you on rainy days. i'm a lil offended, you know. i better not catch you stealing my umbrella when it starts raining again. >:( since you have no time to send me a reply"

y/n shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she read the last note. it was funny, in a way. she hadn't expected anyone to be keeping track of her lack of replies, but somehow, this person had.

a strange feeling tugged at her chest. it wasn't like she owed anyone an answer, but the notes... they felt personal. whoever it was seemed oddly invested in the whole exchange, waiting patiently for her response, even though she hadn't given one.

y/n stuffed the notes into her bag, a little more carefully than she usually did, and turned to leave the lounge.