A/N: Dell 'n Yukari has grown on me. Probably not as much as IA 'n Leon or Lui 'n Yuuma, but I do find it to be rather cute. This story originally started as a Miriam 'n Yuuma story, but as I kept going, I realized it didn't fit them exactly. Thus, I wrote for this couple instead.

Also, this is mildly based upon the song "The Rainiest Day of Summer" by Elizabeth and the Catapult, but since I've already written for Dell 'n Yukari in my 100 one-shot collection, this gets to be a stand-alone one-shot. Huzzah for it. And hey, this is my 20th story! Does that mean anything? Not really. Just thought I would mention it.

Additionally, I'm hosting a contest for under-appreciated Vocaloid pairings! I'll write one-shots for the winners (probably similar in length to this work), so if you have any interest, head over to my profile to learn more!

I've read somewhere that when you wake up from a dream, it's as if you're being forcibly yanked from your bed. One moment it's all warmth and a somehow comfortable claustrophobia; the next, you're lying on a cold floor as a loved one glares disapprovingly down at you. In my opinion, it sounds like a simply wretched experience.

Then again, you can't believe everything you read. It's funny how my mom used to tell me that all the time and it's only now, at twenty-five years old, that I finally believe her. Sure, I know that fairytales aren't true in the world I'm forced to reside in, but that doesn't mean that somewhere – in this universe of billions upon billions of stars – fairytales aren't coming true every day.

On the other hand, maybe fairytales only take place in dreams; maybe fairytales only take place in a limbo where humans are never allowed to reside for too long.

I feel as if I've been living a dream for two years now. For a time, I was allowed to remain in my blissful cocoon, but not I've got my own loved one glaring down at me.

A certain Dell Honne.

"Yukari."

He says my name more like an acquisition than any form of greeting. I guess I can't really blame him – it's been five years since I bothered to get into contact; I long ago lost the right to refer to him as my 'loved one'.

Instead of answering his accusatory tone, I find myself smiling. The corner of my lips turn up the slightest bit into what I'm sure is a painfully careworn expression. Truthfully, it feels odd.

It's real; not forced, not faked, an honest to God smile. It's probably been about five years since the last one. I wonder if this will start to be a 'thing' now that Dell's around again.

But then again, I'm not sure how long I'll be here. After all I'm suddenly barging into his life completely unannounced; how much kindness does he have for someone who does that? The Dell I knew was a big softie underneath everything, so I'm sure that the Dell currently standing in front of me is exactly the same.

Please be exactly the same.

"You moved."

My voice is somewhere between a suppliant whisper and an agonized plea. I'm sure that Dell notices, but his face remains as perfectly impassive as always. He knows me so well that he probably even knows why I'm pleading with him; he's always been able to read me like a book.

"I got a new job."

"Oh, congratulations."

And then the conversation dies once more, because what else is there to say? It's obvious that he has no desire to see me and now I'm not so sure why I wanted to see him either. I'm not sure why I suddenly decided one night that I have to hop on a midnight plane and fly back to the city where I met him; I'm not sure why I hunted down long-lost mutual friends in the search for wherever Dell had run off to. At the time, it seemed like the right and logical thing to do.

Now it seems frivolous.

Frivolous and potentially damning.

"You're soaked."

To my surprise, he's the one to break the heavy silence. At his words, I begin to examine myself as if I haven't noticed that my clothing is drenched and sticking to me like a second skin. I once more pull my arms to my chest in an attempt to retain body heat that has long ago fled.

"Yeah, it was raining outside."

"It still is. You're still getting soaked."

Once more, his words are what drive me to action as I turn my gaze heavenward. I'm rewarded for my troubles by several fat raindrops falling onto my face. One lands directly in my eye, sending stinging displeasure pulsing through my skull before I lower my gaze to his eyes once more.

"I guess you're right. Funny that I didn't notice that."

And it's true. Up until this moment, I haven't noticed that rain is still pelting my exposed back as the wind whips my hair every which way. The moment Dell opened that door it was as if two years of my life had simply vanished. Those two years of running and avoiding anything and everything that I associated with him had simply never happened. They had been nothing more than a bad dream and now I was waking up to find that everything is how it should be. Everything is as it was that hot, dry day smack-dab in the middle of the summer.

That last season I spent with him the country had been hit with a dramatic heat wave. Everywhere you looked plants were dying and people were barely managing to drag themselves through the sweltering days. During that time, the mere concept of 'rain' seemed like some far off mirage that would vanish the moment we attempted to approach.

It's raining right now.

Rain belongs to the realms of fairytales – the realm of dreams.

"You didn't even bother to bring an umbrella?"

"I guess I forgot it at home."

I didn't bother to mention that 'home' was about 500 miles away and I had left with little more than a hastily stuffed suitcase and the clothes on my back.

"Goddammit Yukari, don't you think at all? What about that bunny hoodie that I-"

His sentence cuts off abruptly even though it's obvious that he was going to say more. However, we both know that the ending of that sentence will never come; it belongs to a time from two years ago. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, I find myself clinging desperately to the ray of sunlight that somehow snuck into our conversation.

For a few seconds, the harsh sunlight of the drought is back and the two of us are lazily lying around the house. I'm sitting in front of a fan with several ice packs placed strategically on my body when suddenly he drops something in front of me. My first reaction is anger because the object is blocking the fan. However, when I pick up the offending item, any thoughts of anger disappear.

It's a hoodie that has bunny ears attached to the top. Upon closer inspection, I realize that the bunny ears aren't part of the original design; someone has taken the time and energy to add them. In this situation, the only logical conclusion is that it's Dell, he who has never touched a sewing needle in his life. Tears of joy are mingling with my ridiculously wide smile as I quickly haul myself off the floor and run after him, ready to embrace him regardless of how hot and sticky it is.

Suddenly, a raindrop hits me directly on the forehead.

It wasn't raining then.

"Come on in. The neighbors won't shut up if I leave a girl standing on my doorstep in the rain."

As he steps out of the doorway and I shuffle into the apartment, I can't help but wonder if he decided to let me in as some sort of deference to that one moment of unintended sunshine. I know that it's not because of what the neighbors think; Dell couldn't give a rat's ass what the neighbors think.

It's only when I sit down at the table and Dell hands me a towel before going to make coffee that I notice something that sparks something inexplicable in my chest.

He has a wedding band on his finger.

I wonder what he did with the engagement ring he gave me. I know he found it – I left it right next to the coffeepot, a place that he always visits during his morning routine no matter the situation. He probably bought a new one when he proposed to his now-wife. Did he throw away the other one? Does he still have it?

I can't really say which one unnerves me more.

"Here."

His voice is gruff as he sets down a cup of coffee in front of me. The corners of my lips are once more forced to turn up. It's obvious that the coffee has been drowned in so much sugar and milk that it's most likely impossible to taste the actual drink underneath. I'm kind of surprised that he still remembers.

"Thank you."

The words are filled with honest gratitude as I tip my head back and allow myself to be warmed by the once-bitter drink. I feel heat seeping through my bones and within short order I can once again feel my toes. Warmth rushes to my cheeks as I allow my eyes to close and enjoy the mundane and peaceful nature of the moment. Even though the drink is starting to scald my tongue, I don't allow myself to stop drinking. I can't see him, but I can feel Dell's eyes on me.

We both know that when I put the cup down the questions will start; it's the only logical way that this little drama can progress. No plot twists allowed.

By the time I allow the coffee cup to leave my lips, he's lit up a cigarette. That was one habit I was constantly trying to break him of and he was just as constantly refusing to even consider giving it up. I can still remember how triumphant I was when he finally agreed that he would kick the habit if and when I got pregnant, for the sake of our baby's health.

…Best laid plans and all that.

"What are you doing here?"

I knew he was going to ask me this. I've known that he was going to ask me this the moment I answered my inexplicable impulse and found myself on a midnight flight back to a town I had resolved to leave behind forever five years ago.

"I don't know."

It's the truth. With Dell, I feel like I always have to tell the truth. Maybe this is my personal way of deferring to those sunny days now swallowed by the pelting rain outside.

"You don't know?"

"Nope. Sorry."

Something sparks in his eyes and I'm greeted with an expression that is all too familiar. He's about to yell at me or scold me or perhaps a combination of both. However, despite all the signs indicating otherwise, he does neither of these things. Instead, he turns away from me and puts out his cigarette on the ashtray situated next to him.

Oh, that's right.

We're no longer together.

We're no longer getting married.

"Why did you do it?"

Once again, he's the one to break the silence. It's just another indicator that this isn't the Dell I knew – things have changed.

"It…?"

Even to my own ears, my voice sounds frail and artificial. I know exactly what he's talking about, but I want to hear it from his own lips. I want him to confirm that it happened.

"Why did you run out on me three weeks before we were supposed to get married?"

So he does remember.

So it did happen.

"I…I don't know."

It's the truth.

When I reflect on that time, it's all a mess of emotions. I remember being afraid, so very, very afraid. However, when I try to pin down just what was bringing about this reaction, I'm left with no solid answers. All I am completely sure of at this point five years later is that when I left that engagement ring for Dell to find and hopped on a plane out of town, I didn't feel sadness. I should have, God knows that I should have, but I didn't.

Instead, I felt an odd feeling of comfort.

It wasn't to last. So many times before today I considered returning to this town and finding him once again; I considered sitting down and talking with him and going back to the way things were. However, every time I almost did it, I felt that inexplicable fear return and another month would pass before the desire to talk to him would arise again. It carried on like this for five years. What finally gave me the courage to come today?

I don't know.

I honestly don't know.

Abruptly, he stands from the table and walks towards me. Instinctively, I shrink back. I don't know what he's going to do; I'm too frightened to look into his eyes and find out.

What if I find love?

What if I find hatred?

Which one is worse?

He simply takes the lukewarm coffee from in front of me and heads towards the kitchen sink. A few seconds later, the sound of running water fills the silence. His back still looks the same – lean shoulders and all sharp angles and harsh lines. Before I even have time to think it through, I'm on my feet and rushing towards him; I'm rushing towards his back. My face pushes into his shirt and I'm swallowed by the smell of cheap cologne and the stink of cigarette smoke. It's something that is so familiar and so comforting that I instinctively feel my arms tighten around him.

This is where I want to be.

This is the memory I always want to live in.

Then I feel his entire frame stiffen under my arms.

He never would have reacted like that before.

I swiftly release him.

"I should be going."

The words spill out of my mouth in a jumbled torrent and suddenly I find myself staring at the front door. I don't remember looking away from Dell's back, but I must have. Behind me, I hear the torrent of sink water come to an end before his footsteps echo through the linoleum lined kitchen. This time it's my turn to stiffen.

But I can't move.

I'm stuck here in this moment – this moment between dreams and reality.

Then I hear his footsteps right behind me and I suddenly find the strength to turn around and face him. His eyes are impassive. In his hands, he holds a clear plastic umbrella. I have no idea how these two things are connected, so I just stare at him.

"It's lighter now, but it's still raining outside."

I find myself nodding my thanks as I take the umbrella from him and for a moment our hands touch; my left hand on top of his left hand. Underneath my fingertips I feel the cold metal that's wrapped around his ring finger. The feeling that rushes through my body is even more potent than when I hugged him.

Suddenly, I want to scream.

What words I will scream, why I will scream, how long I will scream – I don't know the answer to any of these questions. All I know is that I need to let everything out. It's a physical ache in my chest that is growing in intensity every moment.

But I don't.

I can't.

Instead, I once more nod my head in thanks as he leads me on the short walk to the door. The next moment, I am standing outside once again. The only way this scene is different is that I am now protected from the rain by Dell's umbrella. For a few seconds all I can hear is the patter of raindrops on plastic.

"Congratulations."

I didn't mean to say that.

"On what?"

"Your marriage."

I meant to scream.

"Oh. Thanks."

"Who's the lucky girl?"

Scream! Shout! Yell! Make a scene!

"Her name is Gumi."

"Ah. Well I wish you both the best of luck."

I give a deep, formal bow before turning and slowly leaving his apartment complex. Behind me and above the sounds of rain, I hear a definitive click as he closes the door. That sound signals the end of the sunshine; Dell has locked it away. There's no screaming or shouting, no chasing after one another, no fairytales.

I'm two blocks away before I realize that it has stopped raining.

Even though it's pointless now, I still hold the umbrella over my head. My legs won't move forward; I lack the strength to take that next step. All I can do is cling to the umbrella that he has given to me; all I can do is cling to his tiny act of kindness. It's something that I don't deserve and yet he has given it to me. He always has been a big softy underneath.

I was wrong before.

Those five years without him happened.

They were reality.

These few moments with Dell – these…few moments…they are the dream.

Humans aren't allowed to dwell in the realm of dreams for long.

I can't decide whether I should laugh or cry.

A few seconds later, I find myself doing both.