XXV: Rain

Their early-morning run is interrupted by sudden dark skies and a pricking wind. Akihiko squints into the sky, watching wisps of clouds turn to angrier, darker clumps that push each other and scuttle like crabs across the once-blue expanse. The promise of rain hangs in the air thick and heavy; he can taste it.

"It wasn't supposed to rain," he muses, holding out a hand as the first fat drops come hurtling to the ground. They're like little icicles, and he flexes his fingers as they pattern his palms with crystal shimmer. He glances at Minako; her face is upturned to the droplets, her eyes closed. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips as the rain soaks her hair and leaves it more red than brown, loose strands plastered to her neck and her cheeks.

What started as a sprinkling turns steadily into a downpour. Akihiko bunches his shoulders around his ears and frowns as the cold needles pierce straight through his thin shirt. He'd rather be dry, thanks.

Making a dash for the nearest shop awning, he tucks himself beneath it and shakes water off his shoes and his hair. Minako is still standing on the sidewalk, smiling, all teeth. He shakes his head in wonder. That girl.

"Aki, c'mon! This is nice!" She turns that smile on him, and he tries to mimic it, though he refuses to move. Nice? Don't think so. He's cold. He rests both of his hands on his hips and shakes his head again, more firmly. Minako frowns, though it's more of a pout. She jogs over to him, all bright lines and ruby eyes.

"Afraid of a little rain?" She taunts him, closing her hand around his. She's cold, too, but she doesn't seem to mind. Rain drips off the ends of her hair and the tip of her nose, and her lips are a faint, pale blue. He sighs, tracing a quick circle around her palm.

"Just cold," he consents. Her grip on his hand grows tighter, and the edges of her smile turn wicked.

"Well, moving will warm you up," and she tugs him back out into the rain. It is cold. She leads him to the center of the sidewalk, free of commuters given the weather, and turns to face him, still holding his hand so it now occupies the space between them. Her smile should be bright enough to part the clouds.

He shakes his head and smiles at her, conceding defeat. She laughs, releasing his hand to pivot in a small circle, arms spread and face upturned. "Might be the last time it rains for a while," she says, eyes closed. "You should savor it."

But that's not what he wants to savor, right now. When she spins to face him again he catches her and draws her to him for a kiss, and her lips are chilled. She tastes of rainwater and promises and daylight.

She melts into him, and he is not nearly so cold.