A Popular Girl Confessed to Me, the Loner—Thinking It Was a Prank, I Tried to Scare Her Off... But She Was Actually Serious. - Chapter 18: Sharing an Umbrella

It was Wednesday after school.

The rain that had started around noon showed no signs of stopping, and by the time we were heading home, it had become a full-on downpour.

At the entrance of the school building, Hiyori opened her umbrella with a soft smile.

“Wanna walk home together?”

“Yeah.”

There was no club today. So naturally, we ended up together.

I’d brought an umbrella too—actually, my younger brother forced me to take it this morning.

We walked out the school gates side by side.

Each under our own umbrella, keeping just enough space for one person between us.

It wasn’t weird. Totally normal.

But somehow—it felt just a little… lacking.

The sound of rain echoed around us as we walked.

From time to time, Hiyori would bring up something like, “That teacher was totally drenched today, huh?” and I’d respond with a nod or a short reply.

It was fun. Nothing awkward.

Yet, it still felt… oddly distant.

As I was lost in thought, Hiyori suddenly came to a stop.

“Hey, mind if we stop at the park for a bit?”

I turned my head to where she was looking—a small park along our usual route home.

Right at the entrance, there was a little shelter with a bench underneath.

“Yeah, sure.”

The rain was getting heavier. Honestly, it seemed like a perfect excuse to take cover.

We stepped under the roofed area and closed our umbrellas.

The only sound now was the gentle dripping of water.

Hiyori sat at the edge of the bench, while I stood next to her, brushing the rain from my hair with my fingers.

Then, she suddenly muttered,

“Hey…”

“Yeah?”

When I looked at her, I noticed her cheeks were faintly flushed.

“What’s wrong? You look a little red—do you have a fever?”

“N-no! That’s not it!”

She flailed in a slight panic. Honestly, it was kind of rare for her to get this flustered. I had the strange urge to burn the moment into memory.

“Um, so…”

She hesitated for a second, then finally turned toward me and said,

“I… I want to try sharing an umbrella with you…”

Her words fell softly, almost drowned out by the rain.

And yet, they made my heartbeat thunder in my chest.

“…Even though we both had umbrellas just now?”

“Yeah. We do. But… I still want to.”

She was looking slightly down.

Her voice trembled just a bit, but I could tell—she truly wanted to say this.

“Not because of the rain, but because I want to. That’s what makes it special…”

When she looked back up, her cheeks were tinged with pink.

I quietly opened the umbrella I’d folded earlier.

“Then… come over here.”

Even I was surprised by how gentle and calm my voice sounded.

***

Hiyori gave a small smile and stepped into the space beneath my umbrella.

Her sleeve brushed against my arm—just barely.

She let out a soft breath.

“…Yeah, I’m really glad.”

“…I-I see.”

I didn’t know where to look.

The inside of the umbrella felt much smaller than I expected.

The scent of her hair. The rhythm of her breathing. How close her shoulder was. Everything felt… near.

But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

If anything, I found myself wishing it could last a little longer.

Then, Hiyori gently placed her fingers over mine on the umbrella handle.

She didn’t grip it tightly—just enough to share the feeling of being there, together.

“It’s kind of weird, huh? We were just walking with our own umbrellas a moment ago.”

“…Yeah.”

“But now… it feels more like we’re really walking home together.”

I gave her a soft nod.

Closeness isn’t just about physical space.

Maybe this—walking side by side with someone—is what it truly means.

***

The rain hadn’t let up by the time we got to the station.

But inside our little umbrella world, there was a quiet warmth.

As we put our umbrellas away, Hiyori turned to me with a cheerful smile.

“…Let’s share an umbrella again sometime.”

She said it with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Like today?”

“Nope. Even more than today—like, because we want to.”

That smile of hers, in that moment, etched itself deep into my heart.