Disclaimer: Satoshi Hikari/Hiwatari and Risa Harada do not belong to me. I just borrowed them for this story is all.
Sakura-Angel: (RAWR I HATE QUICKEDIT BECAUSE IT HATES HTML. Ahem.) Trying a new pairing out. I really tried to make Satoshi sound not so stick-up-his-butt-like. Hopefully I succeeded. (On another note, HOLY LAME TITLE.) Feedback is much appreciated, especially since this is my first time writing the pairing, hehe. Happy reading!
Umbrella
Oh. It's started to rain.
Well, that doesn't really matter, Satoshi decides, because he likes the rain anyway, and continues to walk the length of the sidewalk.
About two minutes later, with water dribbling down his neck and into his shirt and droplets speckled all over his glasses so he can't see a thing, he decides that there is such a thing as too much rain.
He plants himself on a bench - not a good idea in retrospect, now his boxers are soaked through too - and nestles a hand in his hair, nursing a sudden headache.
The rain is pelting cold. It occurs to him that the shirt he is wearing is a light blue and is most likey soaked, showing glimpses of skin. He frowns. How unseemly.
Suddenly, it's not raining.
Or rather, it's not raining on him. The few people outside are positively water laden, pale and shivery. Somehow, he is not experiencing the same.
"Hey, Hikari. Are you going to saying anything?"
Satoshi, still completely baffled at the phenomenon of no rain in his vicinity, looks up dazedly.
It's Harada Risa.
... With the phenomenon that is an umbrella.
She raises her eyebrows, expectant. "Well?" He notices her shoe tapping the sidewalk, the suede no doubt making her walk extremely uncomfortable.
"Miss Harada. Thank you," he says, getting up. Any trace of a headache has simply disappeared.
Before he can avoid pleasantries, she asks, straightforward as ever, "What are you doing out in the rain?" She tips the umbrella to accommodate his height.
"Nothing," he answers truthfully, and tries to put his hands in his pockets. They're stuck together from the rainwater, so he leaves them as they are.
They stand beneath the umbrella, an uncomfortable, long pause seeming to slide in from the rain to join them.
"And what of you, Miss Harada?" he asks without looking at her.
"What?" she says in response, forgoing a 'pardon?' or 'excuse me?'. She was obviously drifting off before he had spoke.
He is tempted to smile at this for whatever reason, but he does not. He clarifies, this time looking her in the eye, "What are you doing out in the rain?"
She adjusts the bag on her shoulder. "Headed home, of course. Until I saw you sitting there."
"Why did you stop?" he asks, not premeditating this question.
"What? What kind of a question is that?" She looks nearly disgusted, obviously making her question rhetorical. "I stopped because I have a heart! Do you know how soaked you are?"
He considers this. His socks are sopping.
"I bet your socks are wet."
He is caught off guard by this and his eyes refocus to catch her defiant expression.
"Am I right?"
He inclines his head the smallest bit, concedes. "You are." And to cover his surprise he lifts the umbrella from her grip, holding it sturdily above their heads. "Shall we?" He gestures to the sidewalk ahead of them, as if at the start of an adventure.
"Sure," she complies.
After a few moments of what feels (strangely enough) like companionable silence, she asks him. "Where are we going?"
"To your home," he replies, as if it were obvious. He manages to not sound snobby.
"You can have my umbrella for your walk home, then," she says with nonchalance.
"I will be fine without it," he tells the sidewalk ahead of his feet. His right pocket has come unstuck, so he slips four fingers in.
Sometime after he does this, he senses a stare coming from his right side. He rotates his head to come face-to-face with Harada.
She continues staring. His eyes slide forward subconciously, then back again to her. What exactly is she doing? Did she find his putting his fingers in his pocket offensive? Or is he really that different looking without his glasses? "Miss Ha--"
"You're taking the umbrella," she says, and he has a feeling she interrupted him on purpose.
"Excuse me?" For the first time in a long while, he is lost on the meaning of someone's words.
"I'm not rescuing you from the rain to let you drown in it again." A spitfire, she is.
He finds words. "I'd rather not take your umbrella from you."
A fast on her feet spitfire. "Then I'll walk you home."
The gentlemanly part of Satoshi (the vast majority) warns against this. This is not the proper thing to do. Let a lady walk him home? What absurdity.
Then another voice pipes up, curious as to what could really happen. Nothing earth shattering will happen if he allows her to, will it?
As if reading his mind, she says two things. "Chivalry is dead, Hikari. I'm not giving you a choice here."
He comes back from his contemplations. "Alright, Harada."
She smiles at this. The curve of her lips say she expected him to put up more of a fight and she is disappointed. But it also says she is happy and surprised. Maybe even happily surprised.
They walk to his house listening ot the fall of the rain and the cars swishzooming by. Satoshi continues holding the umbrella, though he knows that this is only because she has let him and that this is their compromise. He does not know why the thought of this makes him smile.
They go up his walk.
"Well that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asks from her position a step down from him.
He looks at her from half over his shoulder. He answers honestly, "Not at all."
She tilts her head at his waterlogged self, as if contemplating the blue strands stuck to his forehead, darker than usual.
He offers her his half of the umbrella. She takes it by the handle.
"Thank you, Harada." He half nods half bows his head.
She does the same. "You're welcome." She almost turns away before turning back. "Don't forget to dry everything off, okay? Socks too." A smile like before.
"I won't forget," he replies. A smile like never before.
"See you around." She pairs the farewell with a small wave and turns to go.
"See you," he returns. He produces his key from his other pocket and unlocks the door before she is at the end of the walk.
Just as he is about to pass through the threshold he turns. He stands in his doorframe, watching her umbrella bob as she makes her way home. He vaguely wonders what colour her hair would be wet. (Chestnut? Chocolate?)
Then he turns to go inside. He wouldn't want to forget his socks, after all.
Besides, he can find all that out another day.