You say that you love the rain

"Don't you love the rain?"

Alfred asked me, undivided attention piercing through the panoramic glass, towards the theatrical play of pattering, racing, skidding passersby along the drenched boulevard of staccato footsteps and umbrellas; his face a grin of childlike admiration.

I lifted my caffeine-free mug and gave him a tentative shrug, feigning deep thought. "It ruins my shoes, gives me a terrible cold, and if it pours generosity, a possible trip to the hospital. Why should I?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Whatever happened to childhood?" he asked. "When we were children, Mattie and I would run outside the house and play under the rain like nobody's business. When it stopped, we'd pray out loud and ask God to make it rain harder. Mom always told us that it's cat piss we were praying for and we'd be running back to the house the next second!"

His laughter had the bliss of first snowfall and I would always listen in anticipation. "But nowadays, it's all about lazing the day away in the cozy bed."

"Is that why you're late today?" I teased.

"Of course not!" he said.

He shifted in his seat and reached for my hands. "Look, it wasn't my intention to ruin our day. I got an urgent call from the Student Council–"

"I know."

He hesitated for a second and leaned closer across the table.

"I love you," he whispered. "Happy anniversary."

Words abandoned my tongue as the barista mustered his name from the counter. He let go of my hands and asked for a minute. When he came back with his steaming cup of satisfaction, I asked. "What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

I was met with knitted eyebrows and puzzled blue eyes, which widened after a second's realization.

"Oh. About the dinner," he said, lips twitched to a frown. "We'll have to move it to some other day."

"Again?"

He told me the same thing a couple of months ago. He told me that he would take me home and we would have dinner with his family, but the day was yet to come.

I understood that he was busy with life. Alfred was the type of person who finishes the year with his planner filled up to the very last seconds. Balancing his student life was enough to keep him occupied like a high-profile celebrity; he'd been juggling his academics, football team and the Student Council, along with college application this year.

All of them became part of his daily routine that he had not much time left for additional activities. Like today. This was the only day in the last two weeks that we could be alone together. But as usual, he came late because he was dragged into another duty he couldn't turn his back on. It began raining hard and I was worried that he might not show up. We had this planned for days; it was a special day, after all. Never mind our other plans for the day as long as he showed up and sit with me for a few minutes.

All this time, I sat in silence, watching the boy in front of me. For the past year, he was the boy I secretly held hands with, sometimes while sharing ear buds in this coffee shop we called our own; the boy who stole my first kiss by the bookshelves that was followed by a dozen more inside deserted classrooms and the school rooftop.

I was looking at the boy who claimed to be mine, the boy who so insistently convinced me that I was the center of his universe.

But…

He was also the same boy who pushed me around; passed me by the hallways, not sparing a glance; had the upper hand and the excuse to prolong this secret relationship.

Our stay at the coffee shop went through a breeze, dull and uneventful as the previous one. Alfred happily chatted away with his plans for the week, telling me that this would be the busiest week of school. When we decided to leave, he was telling me something about an out-of-town trip over the summer.

"I'll make it up to you. One day," he said. "I promise."

But my attention was outside the window, at the fat droplets of rain. I imagined the cold that would soon pierce through my bones. Maybe it was a good day to stay home.

He opened the door for me and held his umbrella over my head but I ran.

"H-hey, Arthur! Wait up!"

I ran faster, tearing through the crowd of strangers, but he chased after me until we were both under his umbrella again.

"Arthur," he said and caught his breath. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

I looked at him straight in the eye, though my vision was blurred with water that was now streaming down my cheeks.

"I can't spell every word for you, Alfred."

I didn't wait for him to say anything. He was stunned, rooted in his place. But I've had enough.

I ventured into the rain, running, moving on and not looking back.

You say that you love the rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains.

You say that you love the sun but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines.

You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows.

This is why I'm afraid; you say that you love me too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The quote above has always been attributed to Shakespeare by many people but when I looked it up, it is actually of an unknown author.

This was a plot bunny I've had since my birthday (which was seven months ago lol) but I still consider it lucky because at least it made it here unlike the other ones rotting in my folders. \shot I knew I had to write about this when the idea just hit me right in the face, as I was sharing an umbrella with my two friends, though contrary to the mood of the story. We were laughing and running and counting "One, two; one, two; one, two," like some lousy soldiers just so we wouldn't enter the school soaking wet.

Anyway, reviews are welcomed in open arms!