Chapter 3 : This is me praying that
Minato Namikaze x Fem!Reader ¦ COLLEGE AU ¦ Chapter 3 of 8
Inspo lyric : "This is me praying that / This was the very first page / Not where the storyline ends..."
Setting: A week later. Midterms just passed. it's raining. and he's not himself.
___
It started with silence.
Minato stopped answering your texts. Not completely — just slower. Shorter replies. You’d message at 10 a.m., and he wouldn’t respond until 6. You’d send something funny, and all he’d reply with was a single emoji. No sparkle. No Minato.
You told yourself he was just busy.
He was an engineering major. Midterms were brutal. You’d seen him pull near-all-nighters with equations that looked like alien hieroglyphs. So maybe it was that.
But when you passed him on the quad and waved—He looked away. You didn’t even realize how much it stung until your throat tightened mid-step.
You almost called him that night. You sat in your dorm room, blanket around your legs, the rain tapping against the windows like a clock that wouldn’t shut up. Your phone glowed with his name in the messages list.
You typed
> hey, are we okay?
But didn’t send it.
Instead, you opened the notes app.
Draft: Not Sent
> I don’t know if this was just a phase for you. I don’t know if I read it wrong. But I miss the way you said my name. I miss when you looked at me like you knew something I didn’t.
And maybe I’m stupid. But I thought this was the start of something.
Please don’t let it end like this.
You closed it.
TWO DAYS LATER
It was still raining.
You were walking across campus with your headphones in, hoodie up, your tote bag soaked at the bottom and your coffee already cold. You hadn’t slept. Or eaten. Or done anything other than float.
And then — you saw him. Outside the library. Back against the stone wall, sitting on the low ledge, hood up, drenched.
You paused. He hadn’t seen you yet.
You could walk away.
You didn’t.
He looked up as you approached.
Eyes red-rimmed.
Like he hadn’t slept either.
“Y/N,” he said, voice hoarse.
“You’re soaked,” you said softly. He blinked at you. Slow. Like his brain was behind his body.
You sat down beside him. Let the rain hit you too.
Silence stretched between you.
And then, he whispered, “My mom’s sick.”
You turned to him. “She’s been sick for a while. Cancer. She didn’t want me to tell anyone.”
Your heart cracked. “Minato…”
“I didn’t mean to ghost you. I just—” he dragged a hand over his face. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want to mess it up.” You stared at him, rain clinging to his lashes, voice breaking.
“You think this is messing it up?”
He met your eyes. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he said. “Even when everything else feels like it’s slipping.”
You didn’t speak. You just reached for his hand.
He squeezed yours like he’d fall apart if he didn’t. And you let him.
LATER THAT NIGHT
You walked him home. He didn’t ask, but you did. You sat on the floor of his dorm room, legs curled under you, his hoodie hanging off your shoulders. He told you stories about his mom — how she made the best curry, how she used to sing in the car, how she called him “baby boy” even now.
He didn’t cry. Not in front of you. But his voice cracked. Once.
And that was enough. You didn’t say anything poetic. You didn’t try to fix it.
You just stayed.
And that was enough.
11:37 PM
He looked at you from his bed. You were sitting cross-legged beside him, laptop closed, a throw blanket over your lap. He hadn’t said much in the last hour. Just stared at the ceiling.
And then—“Do you ever wonder if things are too good to be real?” You looked over at him. “All the time.” He turned his head.
“I keep thinking… maybe this version of you is a dream I’m having to survive the rest of it.”
You stared at him. “If this is a dream,” you said quietly, “then don’t wake up.”
A silence. Then, softer, “I’m not going anywhere, Minato.”
He swallowed. “You promise?”
“I’m here.”
He reached for your hand again.
And that night, he didn’t kiss you.
He just held your pinky like it was sacred.
And that felt louder than anything.