Alfred hated the rain. Hated the rain like the sun hated the UK. Except he was in America. This whole day was turning into a very sucky one indeed.

Apparently, his brother got engaged. Ugh. Who had time for the whole marriage thing? But then their mom was so freakin' excited, she kept conference calling everyone she had in her contacts, and Alfred had to listen to high pitched squealing all day. So, Alfred was stuck in his Political Science class, trying to explain to the ten people on the other line that he was in class, please stop calling.

And then it started raining. Like, pouring. When he was in the middle of walking home. So, it was winter and instead of beautiful, fluffy snow like up North, it just rained. Cold, miserable rain. Alfred hadn't brought an umbrella, because of course he didn't, and now he was walking home in the rain.

Head down, hood up, he probably looked like he was about to mug someone—if anyone was out in this weather of course.

But, then again, the one person who was out, Alfred walked right into them. Like, slammed into them. Like, knocked the poor guy down.

"Shit!" Alfred pulled his hood down, crouching by the guy. "Oh, man, I'm really sorry! God damn, I even knocked your umbrella away—argh! Here, let me get it." Alfred stood, chasing after the wayward umbrella that had been picked up by the wind—because why not, right?

"No, please—"

"Dude, no, I got this!" Alfred yelled over his shoulder, hauling ass after that umbrella. And then—miracles of miracles!—he caught it. Alfred whooped and turned back to the man he had barreled over. "Here you go!"

The man was still on the ground. The umbrella was basically defunct now; the poor guy had been drenched in the few minutes it had taken Alfred to chase down the umbrella. He held the umbrella over his head, looking irritated. (Alfred would be too, if some weirdo had tackled him.)

"Ah, sorry, dude!" Alfred ran a hand through his soaking hair. "Really, I wasn't looking where I was going, but, uh… Hey?"

The man stood up, shaking his free sleeve to rid it of water. He didn't respond. God, Alfred had never felt like such a dick.

"Hey, look, man, I'm sorry. Look, let me make it up to you, alright? Want me to buy you a coffee? I know a place that's like, three second away from here. Oh, come on, it has a fire, and I owe you for pushin' you down like that."

The man looked half ready to refuse, but his shoulders slumped and he nodded. "I suppose… I will pay for my drink, however."

Alfred grinned. "Cool, dude. It's this way." They walked. "So, what's your name? I'm Alfred F. Jones. I go to college right down the street."

The man walked around the puddle as Alfred sloshed through it. "Kiku. Kiku Honda."

"Aw, like the cars?" This was the wrong thing to say, judging by the glare Kiku sent his way. Alfred pressed on, "But what do you do?" Alfred held the door open for Kiku as they arrived at the coffee place.

God, Alfred loved this place. They had a fireplace, and everyone was real chill. They sold these awesome coffees that came in actual glass, and they baked their own pastries and made their own sandwiches, and they had these comfy ass chairs. When Alfred got black-out drunk, he always woke up on the doorstep of this place, and they'd give him a free coffee if it was late enough.

"I breed cats."

Alfred's face couldn't lose the half-smile that plastered itself there. "Ohh… Cats," he nodded.

Kiku stood in line, taking off his jacket. He kept brushing the hair out of his eyes, and Alfred couldn't stop watching. It was funny, the way his wrist flicked, but the wet strands would fall back into his eyes; he kept doing it, and Alfred wasn't sure he knew that he was even doing it.

"Yes. For shows."

"Oh, I thought you were one of those crazy cat people who lived in those creepy houses way out in the middle of the mountains with your animals. Cat shows are cool. Two of the regular please, Sarah? Thanks. I'm majoring in political science." Alfred stood a little straighter as he said this. Thank god—Kiku finally seemed interested.

"Really?"

Alfred nodded, handing Sarah the money and Kiku his drink. He led the shorter man over by the fire, collapsing in one of the chairs. Kiku sat down on one nearby, warily watching Alfred as he put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Yeah! My dad's a Senator from up North, so I figured I might as well shoot for it, right?" Alfred took a sip from his coffee, eyes rolling back. "God, this is so good."

Kiku took a sip, coughing. "It is really sweet."

Alfred opened his mouth in mock horror. "You don't like it?"

Kiku stumbled for words. "Ah, no, just—"

Alfred laughed. "Dude, it's cool, I was just messin' with you."

So yeah, Alfred's day mostly sucked. His brother had gotten engaged when Alfred hadn't had a significant other since Freshman year of high school, and it was pouring like God wanted another Noah's ark, and he had smashed into one of the only people out in this terrible weather.

… But coffee and talking with Kiku was nice.