"Your umbrella." You say, holding said umbrella up and shielding me. "It was in the club room."
"Ah, I forgot." I reply as I smile up at you, giving no reaction to the look in your eyes. "Thanks. Do you want to walk together?" Yes, it's a lie - who forgets about their umbrellas when it's raining outside? But would you accept my offer of walking home together if I hadn't left it behind? I saw you lend yours to an underclassman, saying that you will be staying behind until late and the rain would stop by then. You lied, just as I did. And I don't want you to catch a cold, Tezuka.
And so we walk in the rain, and I have to take longer strides than usual to keep up with your long legs. After a while you seem to have noticed and slow down your pace. I like that about you; you never compromise, but you fit you life around others. You spend time and effort on people as if you are born to serve. You can have limitless patience if that is what is required. You pay attention to detail. You see me hold my school bag against myself better to keep it from getting wet, and step closer to me.
I wonder if you remember the day we met outside the hospital, after you went for a check-up. I lied, even back then, but I think you knew. We lied a lot, both of us: my saying I only happened to see you going to the hospital, your pretending to believe in what I said. Even now, lies seem to be the only way for us to honestly communicate.
The delicate dance of water from the skies is becoming an angry downpour. Home is not that far away, so I walk faster and tug at your arm, gesturing for you to follow me. And you do, even making sure that I am shielded from the rain, but this leaves your right side completely soaked and despite your efforts, my left side as well.
My mother is home. We toe off our shoes and accept cups of hot tea. Mother graciously suggests you stay for dinner, which will be served in less than an hour, and you graciously accept the offer, chatting with her politely for a few moments before following me up to my room.
We take off our school coats, hanging them near the heater to dry. Even our shirts inside are wet, so I ask if you would like to borrow a t-shirt from me, for now. You say nothing, so I take that as a yes and open my wardrobe.
"Are you cold?"
I see your shadow; you are standing behind me. It is very warm in the room, but I nod.
I'm not cold, but I shiver when you put your arms around me, holding me from the back. "I can't let you get sick." You say, and I tell you that I'm freezing, I'm not feeling well, although I am shivering for a completely different reason.
You help me change into a clean t-shirt, your hands resting on my bare skin, not shy nor bold, just a warm presence. I don't even bother pretending to look ill when you take me to bed. You climb in with me, put your arms around me again, and say once more that I must not get sick.
I have never been so close to you physically. I have imagined countless of times what it would be like to be held by you, but I never thought you would be so gentle, as if your body is yielding and folding itself around me and I am melting into you. I smell the rain on your skin, a bit like the scent of mornings when the sun has not yet risen.
You are so warm you make me shiver. "I'm still cold." I bury my face into your chest and you slide your hands under my t-shirt after a moment's hesitation, as I stretch myself against you, seeking more contact. You don't stop me, only silently run slightly calloused palms up and down my back, and I grow bolder. "Warm me." I whisper against your nape, tasting the slight saltiness of your skin. "Tezuka," I say, just because I like the sound of your name. "Tezuka."
We stay like that for a long time. You let me kiss you, I let you touch me. Our breathing becomes rapid. You search for me and allow me to search for you. I think I can hear your heart beat, but it could be my own, I cannot be sure. Then I start to feel light-headed and I hold on to you, my fingers clinging to your back. You respond to my breathless whispers with a tighter hold.
The world dissolves around us. Everything becomes silent apart from the sound of rain splattering against my windows.
I can't stop shaking. I can't look up at you. What have we done?
Your body goes rigid against mine. Suddenly you try to get up but I am still half sprawled atop you, clinging even as you let go of me. I hear a flood of apologies, that you should not have done that, you didn't realise this wasn't what I wanted, you are sorry, you are very sorry.
But it was what I wanted. "I...I know. You didn't mean to." It was because of my behaving so shamelessly. "I'm sorry I've done such a thing." Letting go, I push myself away from you. The blanket falls from my shoulders. I have never felt so cold in my life. I step off the bed and stumble towards the door, straightening my clothes on the way. How could I have done something like that? I took advantage of your gentleness. Will you ever even look at me again? It should be me to say sorry. Even now, you try to take the blame of something you did not initiate. How could I ever look at you again?
"Wait."
"It's okay, I mean, I got carried away, it wasn't meant-"
My words are cut off by your embrace. You are still so gentle, yet so intense, you make me want to fall apart in your arms.
"I mean to."
I don't understand, and I tell you that.
You kiss my hair with your breath. "I want you."
"That's not true."
"It wasn't a mistake - not for me."
Tezuka, you are lying again. I'm tired of this.
"If it was a mistake for you," I feel you move, but instead of turning me around, you step around me so that we face each other. You let go of me. "Tell me and I will leave."
Are those honest words? If they are, then can I believe them? This is not how we do things. If you talk to me the way you always do, then I know what to listen for. But now you are confusing me.
I look up at you, wanting to find more clues from your face, but no words would come. And then-
I start laughing.
Look at you! Clothes undone and in disarray, your hair a beautiful mess, you are so different from how you normally look, it is impossible to think seriously. And that red mark on your collarbone...
Your complete puzzlement just makes me laugh harder. I can't help but touch the red mark. I got carried away just now. It is obviously still raw and my touch makes it hurt, but you don't stop me.
Your eyes are smiling. You tell me I was vicious.
"I'm sorry."
"I am not."
I draw a breath through my mouth, laughter dying on my lips, suddenly captivated by you again. There you go again. Can this be real? I-I don't know how to talk to you. Honesty is not something I am used to.
"What if... my answer is 'no'?"
I cannot see a change in you, try as I do. Lips pressed tightly into a line, you take your time to consider your reply. Then you tell me you would not give up; you would pursue me, you would try to make me see the endless possibilities we have, you would make sure I have thought about it carefully - but you would not push. You would give me space. And if my final decision was not what you hoped for, you would wish me happiness and you would always be there when I need someone, a friend or more, to fall back on.
I... I don't know what to say. This honesty is too sudden. It is too much. I am not used to this. So I choose to ask questions instead.
Would you hold me even when I am not cold?
Yes, you say.
Would you walk home with me without an umbrella?
Yes.
I think I must have moved forward, and perhaps you have, too, but the next thing I know, I am in your arms and you in mine, and all I can think is, I am so glad it rained today.