A/N: This is a Byakuran/Zakuro drabble/ficlet, so if you hate that pairing, don't read. Enjoy!
x x x
It was raining.
Just like the first time they'd kissed.
The former storm wreath could still remember that. Even though it had been more than a year ago, the scene was oh so fresh in his mind, as if it were yesterday.
He had been outside, under the low roof protruding from the front of the Millefiore manor, waiting. Byakuran never waited for anyone like this, always choosing to stay comfortable inside, accompanied by a large bag of marshmallows. But there he was, watching as Zakuro made his way tiredly up the pebbled path after a long mission.
He could still remember the feeling of his tossled red hair clinging wetly to his face from the large raindrops pelting down. All he wanted was to get inside and take a long, hot bath. Despite this, he froze as his boss stepped out, rain hitting his head and soaking his clothes as he walked toward his wreath.
Never would he forget the moment silky lips touched his, applying gentle pressure as a hand reached up to thread through wet locks. Crimson eyes, half-lidded in lust, stared, shocked, into playful violet ones.
The feeling of loss when Byakuran finally pulled away surprised him, though it wasn't nearly as great as what he felt now. With a smile, his precious God disappeared back into the manor, leaving a dazed but very happy Zakuro to stand in the rain for fifteen minutes, staring after him.
He sneezed. He'd gotten a cold that day too, but this time Byakuran wouldn't be there by his side, handing him tissues and chicken noodle soup.
Byakuran would never be there again.
He would never look into those mystical eyes again.
Never feel the strong, warm arms around him.
Now the droplets of rain weren't the only thing that streamed down Zakuro's cheeks.