Invisible wind brushed the tips of the trees, ruffling curtains by open windows. Grass danced along ankles of small children running along the creek bed, gusts lifting tufts of hair to dance along to the silent melody. But as we all know, invisible forces are the most deadly, and sooner or later this gentle breeze will change abruptly into one of the frequent storms native to this small town.
A young man walks alone on the sunlit sidewalks, paying little attention to his surroundings. He bumps into several people, all who forgive him since he's lived there all his life, and many have known him since he was a baby; before finally looking up, somewhat astonished, as if realizing for the first time where he is.
Many hours away, a man sits, fidgeting, in his seat aboard a small aeroplane, anxiously awaiting their landing. His head is full of almost frantic thoughts as he is reminded, yet again, by the captain, that since the weather predicts a large storm before their arrival, they may have to cut the last hour off the flight in hopes of landing at a closer port.
As we return the first young man, the wind has picked up, though only just. He continues to walk among the streets nearing the heart of the almost ridiculously small town, glancing now and then at his mobile phone, his expression almost that of lion tamer, who's lion has just turned into a house cat, and therefore, is unable to do the tricks you had so carefully planned out.
Let us call the first man "A", and the second, "B".
B opens his phone as well, though he gets no reception in the air, and is promptly scolded by the nearby flight attendant, flicking her fingers cautiously at him. Scowling, he pockets his device, and, running his fingers nervously through his dark hair, sighs loudly at his window. The clouds have remained their subtle grey shade for the present, the sky above them a dusky blue.
Below the clouds, however, the colour is distinctly darkening, the air currents pulling more forcefully. A buttons the front of his black coat, pulling up the hem to catch the last one. A bicycle whizzes by, snagging the edge of his left right ear. Clapping a hand to his ear in exasperation, he rises back up, clicking his tongue.
Having only an hour to go before the plane finally lands, B clasps his hand in agitation, feeling much like one would when having to visit the dentist; upcoming horror with the joy of receiving a candy for your troubles. He distracted himself by contemplating the folly of candy and teeth while the plane banked to the left, veering downwards in the direction of the airport, or more importantly, home.
'A' leaves the park behind him with a dissatisfied glare, as if the trees he had been attempting to sketch were somehow rejecting him. The wind has since picked up, ruffling his already messy black hair, and whipping the tassels at the ends of his scarf around his hips. A sense of peaceful calm had settled on him in the vacant park, but now it stripped itself away, leaving him sniffing back unwelcome tears, the dark purple clouds rumbling in recognition.
'B' stares out the window in the sort of way one would if the lion you were trying to tame had just been eaten by a bear, as the lion had turned into a small cat, and the bear being a very small one indeed, had been overtaken by the crowd in vengeance over the lost performer. All in all, similarly horrified, with a very small part of him amazed at the vicious speed the clouds (crowd) had taken over the sky (ring), pelting rain at the aircraft as if Zeus himself were declaring war on the wary passengers.
One particularly mighty gust blows 'A' through an auspiciously blue coloured doorway, the warm oncoming draft spinning with the cold he leaves behind in favor of the brightly lit tea shop. Exiting a few minutes later with a cup full of chai and a mouth full of mint, he finds a bench outside his favourite bookstore, stubbornly remaining in view of the main road. Subconscious hope roots him there, indifferent to the weather, but his aching body wearily argues.
Bumping the tarmac, the plane B continues to haunt pulls up to the port, missing the first lightning strike of the day by a few minutes. He hurriedly ejects himself out of his seat, scooting past his fellow companions and shuffling through the throngs of clumped people, ducking under reaching arms and stepping over fallen bags. Impatiently evacuating the plane, he ran to catch the last bus , his mind brimming with "what if's".
Hands shaking from the cold, 'A' checks his watch. Only five minutes more, he promises himself, stepping underneath the awning of the bookstore, his eyes hungrily searching the emptying streets. The elderly owner of the bookstore smiles gently at him from inside, shaking his head at the antics love committed. When the boy gave up, perhaps he would invite him in for a moment of consolation. That dear boy really believes...? He shakes his head and disappears inside the store.
Disembarking the green tinted bus, he brushes his unusually limp hair out of his eyes, his coat flapping in the wind. Rain assaults the few stragglers remaining, the sky now matching the bus. The first thing he sees coming out of the station is the familiar lantern that always hangs, day or night, outside the bookstore on the corner. And standing there, in the rain, is the most beautiful figure he had ever seen, leaning against the brick of the wall, water dripping off the awning onto his black hair, and from his eyes down his pale cheeks.
The boy turns, his bright blue eyes catching on the tall form standing only a few feet away. Heart pounding, he leaves the flimsy shelter of the bookstore overhanging cautiously, squinting his eyes against the rain, cold limbs forgotten. Then with a small cry, he's running. Stumbling into the arms of the only person he's ever really loved.
"Magnus" He's crying, tears mixing with the rain.
"Alec" All Magnus can say is his name, over and over. He holds Alec tighter, so tightly that they keep each other shielded from the oncoming torrent of rain. Alec presses their heads together, his hands entwined with Magnus' hair, their whole bodies touching.
"You came back, you really did" Alec nearly chokes on his words, his feelings of joy and love and anger mixing together until he doesn't know what he's really feeling.
"I..I...I'm so sorry...I.." Alec interrupts Magnus, kissing him forcefully, the loss and fear melting away from his muddled thoughts, replaced only by the thought "I'm never letting go. Ever again."
Magnus grips the back of Alec's coat, securing the boy against him feverishly.
"Don't ever leave me, Magnus, ever again." Releasing Magnus' face and slipping his hands inside the others coat, Alec leans his face close.
"I can't tell you how much I regret everything, Alec, I love you more than anything and I should never ha-" Again, Alec kisses him, needing his touch, his warmth. He grips him so hard that even through his coat, he thinks he'll leave bruises.
Magnus embraces him even more strongly, as if they are competing against one another.
"Please." Magnus is nearly sobbing.
"No." Alec takes a deep breath. "No apologies. We both we-" But Magnus kisses him, again and again, shucking off both of their coats, leaving them in their translucent shirts, soaked to the bone. For the moment they are immune to the cold, their bodies overheating, their whole world only each other, ignoring the oncoming storm.
"Okay?" Alec asks, their mouths disconnected for the briefest of moments. Panting, both from the loss of breath and from the cold, Magnus pauses long enough to give him the affirmative, then attacks him again, Alec's back smacking against the brick wall.
They are completely in shadow, the light bulbs in the street lamps and the lantern burnt out.
"Magnus" He says, his mouth close to Magnus ear. "Let's go home." Shaking, he clasps Magnus' arms, barely holding himself up.
"I can't move" Magnus says, chuckling, from the crook in Alec's neck. And then they start laughing, uncontrollably, falling to the cement, unable to stabilize themselves, carrying each others weight.
"I miss you." Alec's eyes, so full of multiple kinds of pain, stare directly into Magnus'.
"I'm right here." He whispers. "I will never let you go."