Power Lines
Author's Note: Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Digimon series.
Pairing: Takuya x Junpei.
Summary:
A nostalgic Shibayama Junpei watches a storm pass with Kanbara Takuya.
The smell is faint, but apparent. Metallic. Smoky. Strong ozone mixing in with the earthy smell of softened dirt from the freshly flooded grass. The storm clouds the rain arrived with haven't moved on. They linger. They loom. Forks of silver-blue lightning are shared between them like the unsevered filaments within a plasma globe, flashes of a clear blue sky momentarily ignited behind the dark-one-second, bright-the-next pollution and terrible tremors of rolling thunder. A fearsome rumble that grows louder in the direction it travels.
The only beasts brave enough to approach are birds too small to identify, their miniscule, upraised wings slicing V shapes over top the loping fog while they survey the low and middle reaches.
They could be crows.
They may be Digimon.
Junpei pretends they are. Digimon, that is, and that they're huddling to decide the best tactic for taking them down. The Real World feels so much more compact, more compressed than the Digital World, and yet, all the more colossal since they returned.
He observes the power lines. Two rows of them receding, disappearing into the distance, and one into the misty undercroft of the storm. The wet dirt under his legs is seeping up to smudge his knees, except Junpei hasn't altered their arrangement in all the time he's been sitting.
Takuya hasn't uncrossed his legs, so neither has he.
The storm is also the storm in Junpei's chest. Each blustery blast the storm discharges, venting showiness outward, Junpei witnesses Takuya backlit by the storm outside his chest.
So when Takuya watches the storm, he's watching Junpei.
BOOM! FUMFUM!
