A/N: BEFORE YOU READ, I hope you'll understand the nature of this one-shot. The fic happened in two time-frames, one of it was a narrative which was in Sei's perspective. They were mixed along the bulk of the story, but I hope you get those as you read along.

About the change of perspectives between Sei and Youko, I cannot have more remedy for that. It was written that way, I hope you understand.

Chapter 2 of How They Wish It Was Raining:

Impenetrable Past

-TheSilentReader-

It was a constraint of time and space. Even the vast chaos of downtown Tokyo, the paradox of that bright city was in effect with its citizens. Few of them tried to disrupt such paradox, but their counterparts restore sudden swirl of absurdity tried upon the city.

Sei and Youko, and their private liaison are one of the examples.

It was not hard to describe Sei; in just a flash of the spotlight, shecould gather too much illumination and shine without her even noticing. Her personal likeness to fame shifted into frustration from time to time, but she knew how to use it anyway. That attraction to her popularity led to, yes, more popularity, which led to her life's publicity. The life that everyone knew was a lie. Her general likeness to anything-cute (Yumi that is) and her laid-back outlook towards everything that required utmost importance were fronts to hide her impenetrable past.

Impenetrable past?

No.

Not when Youko chose it to be.

If Sei's encompassing light was grandeur itself, overwhelming the stage, that shining light that hypnotized anyone in beyond the seats, Youko's light was condensed and sharp, a bombardment of photons, of constructive interferences directed to a very small space it might implode. It was never encompassing, never overwhelming.

It was like a small light within the darkness of a cave.

Sei, however, have that light everyone had seen in his last breath.

Or was it the other way around?

Their light could never be compared with Tokyo's night-lights, but it was beginning to blend into their lives.

"Ah!"

It wasn't because of the inane pleasure that coursed through her spine that she screamed such an ear-piercing sound; it was because of the fact that the person giving it to her, who was licking her between her legs right now was Sei.

It took some time for the blond to come this far; Youko rather forced her into succumbing to the mood one love-making ago. Sei, in the fit of her tiredness and satisfaction, decided to return the favor that the raven-haired woman had forced to give her; now, Sei was willing to do so. A moment ago, a sexually frustrated lawyer just went all the trouble of sedating herself in misery to essentially have the courage to disrupt Sei's sleep. Youko had trespassed into her condominium, violating rules and regulations—no, property laws (whatever) to get right through her door and pin her to the wall.

Such act from the former Rosa Chinensis (the ever-serene Rose) did not even breeze into the former Rosa Gigantea's mind (the ever-perverted Rose), no matter how perverted the latter was.

Youko was such a noisemaker.

As Sei pressed more of her tongue through Youko's heat, the raven-haired welcomed with such anticipation that she locked Sei's head with her thighs and legs, which was bent upon Sei's shoulders, as the former grabbed on to Sei's wrinkled sheets and shouted again. The idea was to get her hot and bothered that for the first time, the former Rosa Chinensis would accept defeat. Sei knew she would she'd been winning the first moment she was inching her way down to Youko's core, but the former might never know—she might lose, and be left empty-handed.

Thus, she continued licking, and biting Youko's—whatever—did she have to specify? But Youko seemed to love that one, that bite, for she thrusted her groin to her probing tongue, again.

Yes, she'll definitely win this one.

"Yes, Sei, please do that again,"

Unknown to other people, Satou Sei had the abnormal talent of using both sides of her brain simultaneously, multitasking different pathways of thoughts while doing an entirely different physical task. While focusing in tormenting Youko's pussy by not doing what the latter demanded (she was kissing the inner thighs instead), she was thinking of tomorrow. Tomorrow would be another day, another complication. It was an hour passed midnight; still, while tongueing the lawyer, she deliberated that sleep would soon revert them back to their broken armors. What would happen tomorrow—Youko would leave without her even noticing? Eat breakfast like old friends? Or someone would cook for another, then eat breakfast on the bed, then neglect it because both of them want to eat each other instead. She was not sure anymore—of who was the better liar. Both of them might think that this night might be a mistake, or both might think that—yeah, finally, after all this time.

Therefore, Sei decided to finally follow the boss's order.

"SEI!"

I'd better be a good lover, Sei thought to herself.

She didn't want to make more mistakes like before.

And she doesn't want to be a boring one, either.

As she was glorifying Youko's body with her tongue flicking here and there and her hands on the latter's supple breasts, Sei's thoughts drifted to a different direction again. Why was this realization of feelings (and the hot sex afterward) just happening now? Why not before? Why not on the moment that Sei knew that Youko was more than the meddling best friend, that she was different—unique—among all others?

Youko was convulsing when Sei grazed the last lick of her skilled muscle. She was panting, panting, and panting some more, trying so hard to recover, for she knew that this time, Sei was having her revenge. She tried to get up again, to obtain the upper hand, but to no avail, because Sei was nipping the skin of her belly, upward, upward . . . next was the navel . . . .

Then why the hell Youko could not recover whilst Sei only had her lips in rather less sensitive places?

Ah, yes, the fingers working inside her would do.

"Sei, my god, you are killing me."

"Is that the best line you could think of?"

Sei was playful this time, for this was the second time.

One lovemaking ago, her mood was entirely of a different spectrum. It was not at all like this lively air, but like of the darkest ages, as if she was having the last sex she could ever had (apparently not, she was working on her second with Youko now), a confirmation of an impending death, of love. It was rather of a different reason that Sei was harshly provoked to disregard her onee-sama's advice. Her onee-sama advised her to draw back if ever a person had captured her heart again, never to narrow down her world into a thin light that was her beloved. It was not the case. That light, unlike Shiori, never was unreachable like the stars. Unlike Shiori, Youko was a diamond everyone prized. Anyone could have her; anyone could be suitable for her. Shiori was honest with her feelings, though her heart bore fickleness. Youko is an occasional liar, but she was true to her roots. Sei had reached and touched Shiori even for a short time, that mortal angel, but she never had the courage to touch Youko, a simple mortal, who blended with the rest of the sinful world, unrecognized by the gods. She had touched an immaculate angel, yet simple Youko she could not.

Her lack of courage being with Youko reminded her of a possible paradox her onee-sama's advice failed to entail.

Youko, the unreachable mortal.

If it wasn't for Youko's violent disposal of anger, she would not be sucking Youko's hard nipples right now. Youko released a sigh, as she clutched on Sei's hair in appreciation for doing such a thorough job of pleasing her breasts. Simple was Sei might be doing, she was just as ecstatic for Sei was pinning her down the mattress by covering her midsection and deliberately thrusting her core along her right thigh, running her hotness along the thigh's length, wetting it.

Thrust, slide, then thrust and slide again.

Though Sei's wetness was distant, she could feel it directly on hers, warming her all over, wetting her innermost like the dripping slickness her thighs felt from Sei's.

Yes, Youko was like a small light peeping from a cave, radiance that conspire hope, a hope that was conditional. She felt it when Youko gradually drifted away from her. It was rather a conceited rule of proximity effect, wherein one valued a thing when one was farther away from it. Before, Youko was there in a touch of a button, in a haunting and hanging text message about something interesting, about coffee shops, cakes, and classical music, about hard liquor and aspirin. Now that they were already adults, independent of one another, Sei could not fathom the idea that Youko might be growing on her beyond her notice, their levels of maturity getting further and further away from each other—that Youko might be spending time (instead with her) preparing for the convenience of stability, of marriage. That, she quickly discerned. But, was that really immature and selfish? To actually notice Youko while when she was in the arms of another man? When Youko talked seriously about group dates and omiai, at first Sei felt left out—jealous, even—with the progress Youko was having with her life. Everything was planned, was right on schedule, while Sei had been running around in circles, using her job as a violinist for a philharmonic archestra based in Tokyo to be lost around the world.

Youko, her sensible friend, was in the arms of another man. That she could not get out of her system, her mind, her subconscious, even when she was offered for a solo performance during one of her orchestra's travels, the one she was truly aspiring for.

Sei kissed upward, on Youko's collarbone, as she shifted her belly to level with Youko's and opened both of their legs wider. The Red Rose ran her fingertips through her partner's spine down to the swell of her buttocks, then cupped them with both hands. She pushed Sei's groin down to her, curling her fingers upon Sei's bum and met its gravity when her own thrust. Youko moved her head downward to look at Sei's silver orbs, as she thrust her hips soundly against the former White Rose. Sei then cupped Youko's breasts, kneading them meticulously, as she battled for balance and against Youko's hungry stare.

When Youko was having less and less time with her, she was beginning to feel rejected. It was once a foreign emotion, but she felt like the time before she met Shiori, unabandoned yet unsatisfied of what life had to offer. Being angry to oneself was getting a lot easier than before. What was it like to lose Mizuno Youko? She avoided calls, and texts even from the level-headed woman who was once giving in to the nonsensical that only made sense in Sei's point-of-view. She used to tell the former Rosa Foetida, Eriko, that Youko having a boyfriend was like losing a pet goldfish—she was gone but briefly remembered—no significant experience or instance happened between a goldfish and its owner except the owner just gawked at the goldfish as its mouth blobbed—opening and closing, opening then closing—ingesting oxygenated water. That's it. No fetch-the-ball like with dogs, or pet-the-neck with cats. Nothing. Because the goldfish was always an aquatic animal, unlike its master who thrived in land.

Eriko did not buy the analogy.

Sei could not even consider Youko as her pet, for God's sake. But she reconsidered if she were the that goldfish. Who would be the one lay forgotten? Sei or Youko?

"Sei, please . . . ."

Youko was demanded as she lifted her hips to emphasize her point. Sei felt a hand snaking from her buttocks to halt on her pelvis. Then Youko slid her fingers into Sei, "I need you to be ready."

Youko was ever the most meddling friend. Apparently, she was bothered by Sei's avoidance that it was more amplified when Eriko hinted Sei's sneaking activity to Youko. Female friendships were elaborate and ceremonious, after all. It worked on subtlety or chaos, or simultaneously. Sei never asked her for coffee anymore. Her solo performance was also unknown to the so-called "best friend", that if Eriko did not call Youko for a reservation of the ticket, the recital would be a missed exhibition for the latter. The constant—no—increasing frequency of unanswered calls by Youko was coupled with the increase of frequenct of hearing Sei's recorded voice upon the voicemail, even though Youko was right in front of Sei's door, watching the opened light bulb from Sei's window, barely holding the phone because of despair.

"Youko . . . Ah . . . ."

Youko was playing with Sei's nub that the latter was arching her back, her groin pushed against Youko's finger. She was getting weaker and weaker, that being on top of Youko might soon be the Youko's position. She did not know when her game ended, but the playful air that she was impregnating in the preliminaries was now drawing a dark air as they explore each other. She placed both her arms at the side og Youko's face, while she searched for Youko's light in her obsidian eyes.

It was provocation that made Youko attack Sei's door and pushed herself inside's Sei's apartment and assaulted Sei senseless. It was when Sei (at last) answered the gaddamned phone. The violinist spoke to the lawyer in an unattached and formal manner, a habit Sei usually showed to people she either didn't like or didn't care about. Youko tried to revive the conversation from Sei's one-liner replies by asking too many how and why questions, by being what she did best—being a meddler. Until Sei asked her about her boyfriend. Youko said that they broke up. Sei put more salt upon the wound. Youko let it pass. Then, Sei cornered her with bitch-speak about men being pigs and Youko tolerating those pigs. Abruptly, Youko asked for Sei's fucking problem, in a vicious manner, in a pitch Youko never used. Then, a sharp, thin tone came as Sei's reply. So she came up with the idea of barging in to the violinist's apartment.

"Sei, I love you."

She chanted as she felt the drops of sweat from Sei's forehead. She whispered it over and over again, in the dead of the night, where only the sound of the air conditioning and the low hum from the bedside lamp were heard. Youko heard her reply after the brink of orgasm one lovemaking ago, but she would not expect a reply this time. Sei told her true feelings once, and one from Sei was enough from her. She kissed Sei, just to feel those lips that once said those words to her.

When Sei opened the door after Youko's several minutes of banging it, they stared at each other's eyes for almost two minutes. Sei was looking at her with tired ones, pleading Youko to just leave her alone, while Youko spring forth anger with her obsidian eyes on fire. Then, Youko walked inside, uninvited, hospitality rejected, and grabbed Sei's nape only to swing her against the wall adjacent to the door. Youko closed the door with her lifted foot, banging it, and then she tiptoed and crashed her lips to Sei's. Youko pinned Sei, using all her force, making the latter yield to the idea that Youko might have read Sei's thoughts. That Youko would somehow love her back.

But, wasn't Youko the one who loved first?

It was that idea that made Sei's heart warmed with joy. She was foolish to never notice it. After all, Youko was just a mere mortal, the unreachable mortal.

But mortals are susceptible to errors, and to err is human.

Youko held her tightly, her free hand snaked on Sei's waist as Youko pressed her tightly to the wall. The Red Rose wedged her one leg between Sei's long ones, and pressed her thigh between the latter's inner legs. When Sei tried to budge herself from Youko's prison, Youko pressed harder, and kissed her again. It was a few minutes after she released Sei, when both were out of breath. It was not a pleasant feeling of being suffucated from bliss, thus both of them dropped to the ground, holding each other. Their foreheads were forming sweat, from Youko's assault of kisses. She was panting more for air, until Sei spoke softly.

Am I the rebound now for that pig?

What's your problem, Sei?

I would be happy if I'm not your rebound fuck.

What made you think that?

Am I?

You never were.

Then Youko pressed herself again to Sei, and kissed her lips again, this time, in a soft lingering manner.

Now, in their second lovemaking, both of them were shouting in ecstasy. Each thrust raised more sensation. More movements, shouting, grunting. Sei had forgotten to think anymore. No more multitasking. She was lost with the pleasure happening between their bodies.

Movement, more movements, more rapid movements.

Then.

Then . . . .

It was before sunrise that Sei had woken up. She thanked herself for being meticulous when she chose the mattress when she bought it right after she acquired the apartment. She was underneath Youko's sleeping form, her head rested on Sei's shoulders, her one hand on Sei's breast. Not that she thought Youko to be heavy, but she was surprised that she could still breathe even under this chunk of meat. Youko was rather too glued on Sei's form, but something else was bugging Sei's mind again.

They talked after that. Sei, with her uncertainties, demanded immediately of their status. What now? Lovers? Friends? Exclusively dating? What the fuck?

Youko said that she wanted Sei all by herself, that Sei was not her rebound fuck (Sei was not used with Youko cursing bluntly), but she asked only for Sei. She missed her. So this was a reconciliation fuck? Sei said. Then Youko replied that she might consider that. . . .

And that she had loved Sei for the longest time.

Sei had nothing else to ask for. She was here anyway, while the unconscious Youko was hogging her body with a possesive arm. The sun rose slowly.

"Hmm, Sei?"

"Youko,"

"Stop staring at the window, and start focusing on me."

And Sei slowly flipped Youko down and pinned her against the bed. "Alright."

Impenetrable past?

Not anymore. Not when Youko was around.

Not since Youko had been with Sei.

Not since Sei started to love Youko deeply, that she'd forgotten everything else too.

Not when she started to fear that somehow, Youko would be taken away from her.

Not when Youko reminded her everyday that she won't be.