"Present-day flashback"
Milano Livings
Age: 17
School: Gramsbrogh High
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Rain again?
It always starts like this, doesn't it?
Monday. Overcast skies. Rain pouring down like someone up there left the faucet running and forgot the off switch. I sat beneath a narrow, concrete shelter just outside the rusted school gate. My foot swayed lazily, splashing puddles as if that might somehow reverse the soaking my socks had endured.
Milano (grumbling): "Of course. A Monday afternoon with the sky spitting on me like it's personal. Just what I needed."
Everything around me smelled like wet cement and faint mold. Water trickled down the mossy side of the shelter wall, and the breeze carried that humid, iron scent that only freshly fallen rain can conjure.
I sighed, tilted my head back against the cold wall, and blinked up at the low-hanging clouds.
Milano: "Gotta be at the airport to pick up Mom and Dad… and guess what? No umbrella."
Classic me.
To protect my phone, I slipped it into a wrinkled plastic bag I'd crammed into my pocket weeks ago. Just as I sealed it tight—
Buzz. Buzz.
Reflexively, I reached down to my pocket—nothing.
Wait—my phone was already wrapped.
The buzzing came again.
Milano (internal): What the—?
I squinted at the pavement. And there it was. A phone. Face down, black screen staring into a growing puddle.
I bent down, picked it up, and turned it over.
Sky-blue case.
And the wallpaper?
Milano (internal): No freaking way... That's my elementary school photo.
I froze. The same awkward grin, bowl haircut, and crooked collar. I hadn't shared that photo with anyone. Not even on social media.
It hit me.
This was Avy's phone.
The girl I'd silently liked since the first week of school. The one with quiet eyes and even quieter footsteps. We'd barely spoken, maybe exchanged nods or polite classroom gestures.
I didn't have time to spiral. Slipping her phone into the plastic bag, I took off through the rain.
Water pelted me harder as I sprinted toward the school's exit. I turned left sharply—
THUD.
Avy: "Ahhh! I'm sorry! I was in a hurry, please don't be mad!"
We staggered apart. Raindrops danced around our feet.
Milano: "You okay?"
Avy: "Yeah—wait, have you seen a phone? I dropped it somewhere! I need it, like, urgently."
I pulled it out of the bag.
Milano: "This one? Found it near the shelter."
Her eyes lit up. She took it gingerly.
Avy: "Thank you! Did you... look inside?"
Milano (internal): Oh, you mean did I see my own past staring back at me like a ghost? Nah, totally skipped that part.
Milano: "Didn't check. Was in a rush—gotta get back and head to the airport."
She looked at me—curious, maybe a little suspicious—but let it pass.
We started walking together, shoes sloshing against the waterlogged pavement. A hush lingered between us, filled only by the rhythmic patter of rain.
Avy: "What does your dad do?"
Milano: "Mostly business overseas. Mom helps out too."
Avy: "So you live alone?"
Milano: "With my cousin. He handles cooking. We split chores."
Avy: "My parents want me to pick a college already. I don't even know what I want."
Milano: "Yeah. It's overwhelming."
Avy: "It's not just that. It's like… what's the point? I wish this was all simpler. Like I could just be free, you know? Just… simply live without carrying the expectations of my family on my back."
She let out a soft, bitter laugh.
Avy: "Lucky for you—you could skip high school and take over your dad's business. Meanwhile, I don't even know what to do with my life."
Milano: "I feel you. I wish it was that simple. My dad's always had high expectations for someone like me. Honestly… I just want to live a simpler life in a faraway village without the hassle of this miserable place."
Milano (internal): *Yep, no wonder. Honestly, my life seems to be a mess. No structure, no purpose. I just want a fun life with something new to do... yet I'm stuck here. Sighs.
Then the rain worsened. The world turned to mist.
Milano: "Come on. There's a cafe nearby."
We dashed beneath a shed attached to a cozy street-side cafe. The neon sign buzzed gently above us. And standing beneath it, soaked but unfazed, was a man. Black suit, red-collared shirt, hands tucked into his pockets. He stared at the rain with an intensity that felt... wrong.
Milano (internal): Okay. Rain-drenched noir character, doing his best philosophical brooding. Who stands in a downpour like that on purpose?
As if on cue, the man slowly turned and gave me a side-eyed glance.
Milano (internal): What's the deal with this dude... strange.
Avy: "Let's go inside."
The cafe welcomed us with warmth and the soft scent of roasted coffee beans. Wooden floors squeaked beneath our shoes. Ceiling fans turned slowly, one clicking faintly with each rotation. Jazz music trickled from an old speaker in the corner. Condensation dripped along the windows. Dim orange lights flickered overhead.
We found a window booth, the fogged glass blurring the storm outside.
Avy: "Window seats always feel safe."
I nodded, still glancing back at the man through the window.
The server arrived. Two hot drinks.
Our conversation meandered.
Then the bill landed.
Avy: "Oh no. I forgot my wallet."
Milano: "It's alright, I'll get it."
I reached into my pockets.
Empty.
Panic.
Milano (internal): No. No. No. Not now. Please. This can't be happening.
I checked again. Nothing.
Milano (internal): Goodness, this day just keeps serving me Ls on a silver platter, might as well apologize now before I lose the little bit of respect I have...
Sighs...
Milano: "Sorry, I—"
Milano gets interrupted before he could finish his sentence.
Waiter: "No worries. Your friend over there paid."
He pointed.
The man in the suit.
Now sitting inside. Calm. Too calm. He raised a thumb and offered a slight, confident smirk.
Milano (internal): And now he's throwing in a smirk? Who are you, mysterious benefactor of awkward teenage coffee dates?
I blinked. A chill trickled down my spine.
My phone buzzed.
Dad (text): "Landing in three hours. See you at 7."
I looked up.
The man was gone.
Milano: "Did you see where he went?"
Avy: "He left. Just now."
I shot up, hurrying outside.
The street was soaked. Empty. The neon flickered behind me. All that remained was rain and the distant echo of thunder.
The cafe's TV crackled. A grainy news broadcast flickered onto the screen.
News Anchor (voice-over): "...With rainfall now exceeding 80mm in under four hours, emergency services have issued flood warnings across several city sectors. Authorities urge residents to avoid unnecessary travel and stay sheltered. Schools and public transport services may be suspended in certain areas. Citizens are reminded to secure power backups and avoid low-lying paths. This is not your usual evening rain."
News Anchor (continued): "We also have a developing report from Sector 4 near the Reminois Cafe district—multiple mysterious disappearances of high school students have been reported. Local authorities and agencies are currently investigating the matter. Please be cautious, and if you have any information, contact emergency services."
Milano (internal): What the hell is going on around here...?
Milano (internal): Great, it keeps getting better—or should I say miserably worse. I got drenched, returned a lost phone with my own face on it, got saved from financial ruin by a noir-looking stranger, and chased a disappearing act into the storm. What a mess...