The apartment was silent except for the hum of the TV speakers. Rain tapped against the windows like tiny fingers trying to get in, a steady rhythm that had started earlier in the afternoon and hadn't let up since. Inside, the flickering screen played scenes from The Lion King 2: Simba's Pride, casting a warm, nostalgic glow across the room.
Derek sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a slice of lukewarm pizza in one hand. The menu screen had looped three times before he finally pressed "Play." He hadn't watched this movie since he was a kid, but something about this rainy day had pulled it out of the old DVD stack. Maybe it was the need for comfort. Maybe it was just something to fill the silence.
As the movie started, and Rafiki painted the image of Kiara on the tree, Derek leaned back and let himself relax. His phone buzzed from the table, but he ignored it. It was probably work, or his sister again asking if he was coming to dinner this weekend. He wasn't. He didn't feel like being around people lately.
Outside, the rain grew heavier.
By the time Kovu appeared on screen, Derek was smiling. The animation, the music, the characters—all of it brought him back to simpler times. He remembered watching it with his mom when he was seven, back when they lived in a two-bedroom house and things hadn't fallen apart yet.
Lightning flashed beyond the curtains, illuminating the room for a split second, followed by a crack of thunder that made the windows tremble. Derek paused the movie. He stood up and peeked outside. The street was already soaked, water pooling at the bottom of the curb. The storm wasn't letting up.
"Damn," he muttered, pulling the curtain closed.
He thought about checking the news, maybe seeing if there were any warnings, but instead he just went back to the couch. The movie resumed. Kiara was chasing bugs through the grass. Derek watched.
The sound of water changed—it wasn't just rain now. There was something else. A low, continuous rush, like a faucet left on full blast, echoing off concrete.
Derek frowned and sat up straighter. He muted the TV.
The sound didn't stop.
He stood again and went to the front window. What he saw made his chest tighten.
Water. A lot of it. It wasn't just pooling anymore—it was moving. Fast. A brown, debris-filled surge of floodwater was coming down the street like a tidal wave through the neighborhood. Trash bins floated past. A car was already half-submerged.
He backed away from the window, his heart pounding. "Shit. No, no, no…"
The lights flickered, then went out.