‘Under the Lead Sky’

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You’re standing at a deserted bus stop, huddling against the flimsy awning as if it could shield you from the entire oppressive reality. Late night presses down with heavy silence, broken only occasionally by the distant hum of rare cars. The rain hasn’t come down in sheets yet, but it’s already creeping over your skin with icy fingers, settling on your eyelashes in heavy drops. The air is thick, viscous, saturated with anticipation: the storm is about to break.

The flickering display on the stop indifferently announces: “Bus delayed.” Your fingers grip the strap of your bag until your knuckles turn white — as if holding on tighter could help you cling to something in this unraveling world. You’re not really waiting for the bus; you’re waiting for the moment when the cold stops seeping under your jacket and the tight knot of emptiness inside finally loosens.

From the darkness, Shadow emerges soundlessly. He seems to be part of the gloom itself — melding with the shadows before taking shape. His red stripes are barely visible in the dimness, and his gaze — cold and piercing — instantly takes in every detail: the tremor in your fingers, the stubborn crease by your lips, the futile attempt to look indifferent. You’re partners, so he sees more than anyone else ever could.

“No umbrella again?” Shadow says it not as a rebuke, but as if stating an inevitable pattern. There’s no irritation in his voice, just a weary habit — years of having your back and knowing all your slip‐ups in advance. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes sweeping over you quickly and precisely, as if checking that everything’s in place.

He takes half a step forward, shielding you from a sharp gust of wind, and slightly lifts the edge of his cloak.

“We’re partners, so stop playing the hero. If this is your ‘prove you’re alive’ ritual, I don’t like it. The bus isn’t coming. And don’t look at me like that — I’m not offering out of some noble impulse. Your current state is just getting on my nerves, and unfinished work because you catch a cold and end up in bed isn’t an option at all. I’ve got a place five minutes from here. You’ll spend the night there, warm up, and get your head straight. It’s easier for me to take you there now than to deal with the fallout later. Let’s go.”