Author's Note: Finally done. Reckless-Rage gave me this prompt. Thank her! I love her! She is awesome. Because this wouldn't be without her. As always, all other disclaimers apply. The prompt is obviously not mine. (Umbrella in the rain) and I do not own the characters. Enjoy! (This was written for the Royal Flush Drabble Challenge in the forum PoT Stands for Pointless but Original Talking.)
Rain
Every once in a while, when Fuji took a walk in the morning and caught sight of the bloom of color—red, pink, and purple as the sun rose and fell back into the memories of his time during middle school, and of Tezuka. It wasn't that these memories were not sweet; it wasn't as if Fuji wanted to forget, but sometimes, reminiscing about them sent an ache through his chest, like he left an old home an eternity ago and he was never allowed to return. Every once in a while, Fuji walked across the school grounds and watched the tennis club practice from afar, but going back to what his memories were like a year or two ago was anything but possible.
It was like a hunger aching inside his stomach, but nothing was the same. He was never going to see Tezuka again, and that's what he longed for the most; he missed one snowy day when they shared and umbrella, and his cheeks felt so warm that he was sure they were unnaturally red. He couldn't remember any other time when his heart felt like it was going to truly fly away, and he was so absorbed in the innocent bliss he derived from Tezuka's company that he was sure his attraction was even more significant than love.
He never thought that he would share an umbrella with anyone again; he never thought that innocent bliss would repeat. So, tearing himself from the nostalgic memories of his time with Tezuka, he turned his face up at the sky and sighed softly, ever so softly as he looked at the rain clouds. Usually, he was prepared. However, today, he left his umbrella at home despite the foreboding sky. If it rained, he would be soaked.
Thunder ripped across the sky, and the torrential downpour suddenly pelted him.
His breath came in clouds, and his pace slowed little by little until he stopped walking, only allowing the rain to soak him. He could feel the cold water against his skin, seeping into his bones and chilling him. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and for a moment, felt completely numb, as if all his feelings had fluttered away when the breeze suddenly picked up, like stray papers in the wind that he didn't care to pick up. Until a calm, confident voice interrupted him, he was trapped within the chilly interim of snowy days with Tezuka, and the only particular incidence in which he felt Tezuka's arm across his shoulder—a foreign, but welcomed warmth.
"Fuji."
This voice did not belong to Tezuka. The rain wasn't soaking anymore, and when he tried to look up at the sky, he only caught the black fabric of a large umbrella in his eyes, and then the sight of Atobe standing there with the umbrella in one hand, holding out the other, his palm outstretched as if he expected Fuji to take his hand and twine their fingers. He could still smell the rain and feel it along his ankles when it picked up mist on the ground. He could still hear it, the sound like a shower of bullets to his ears.
"Come with me in my limousine." Fuji, with his hair dripping turned his head and looked at the self-confident face with its picture-perfect smile displaced only by a shining white, self-confident grin. Atobe's air was egotistic, even when he didn't speak. It was written in the way he carried himself, but somehow, Fuji didn't mind. There was something wonderful about being near Atobe, even when he had to deal with the occasional annoyance of receiving flowers at the door—sometimes they were roses, but in the summer he sometimes was given something like daisies or sunflowers, bright and beautiful when he put them in a vase in his room—they looked nice, even though he insisted he was not a girl and did not need Atobe's constant shower of gifts to woo him.
There was something nice about spending time with Atobe, he thought as he sat in the limo, his head resting casually on Atobe's shoulder before he drew back and zoned out as Atobe bragged about a recent achievement in school, then about his fan club and their antics. He talked vividly, expressively, Fuji marveled it, and while at the same time couldn't help but sneak tactful, teasing comments in about a flaw he noticed. Atobe hated having his flaws pointed out. It always ended in the same way, with Atobe scowling, Fuji laughing, and then Atobe proving himself in a game of tennis that usually didn't have a winner, but always ended in Fuji laughing, Atobe scowling at how Fuji was never able to be serious, and then kissing him brutally.
The soft laughter, gentle and sweet, only lasted for a moment, silenced by a soft kiss.
Fuji felt a smile curl across his lips and he moved slightly away from Atobe, watching the rain drum on the window. Rainy days with Atobe were never the same as those with Tezuka, but maybe, maybe he could move on.