#7 - Umbrella
Title: Umbrella
Challenge: 7; rain
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito (Nightmare)
Notes: This was originally written for 50stories, but I thought I'd post it here too since it goes with one of the old challenges. ^^ AU, double drabble.
Pit pat, pit pat, the sound of fresh droplets on Niya’s umbrella. He looked up through the clear plastic stretched taut over a silver frame, his fifth one in crystal clear transparency. Seeing the rivlets trickle down, fall from the edge made the rain worthwhile. Sometimes Niya twirled the umbrella when he thought no one was watching, just to see the drops fly.
“Can I stand here?” Those were the meek words greeting him one rainy afternoon at the bus stop. The storm had just started and the skinny form looking askance for shelter shivered in a light t-shirt. Nodding, Niya adjusted the position of the umbrella so it was covering both their heads. A murmured words of thanks reached his ears, then neither said a word until the bus pulled up.
Spring showers were frequent that year, regularly delighting in rhymic pattering over Niya’s umbrella. Routinely, he would share with the thin man who never seemed to be prepared for the weather. They never spoke, comfortably silent in the calming thrum of the rain.
The day Sakito arrived with his own umbrella to show off, Niya found the courage to ask, “Would you like to go out for coffee?”
Challenge: 7; rain
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito (Nightmare)
Notes: This was originally written for 50stories, but I thought I'd post it here too since it goes with one of the old challenges. ^^ AU, double drabble.
Pit pat, pit pat, the sound of fresh droplets on Niya’s umbrella. He looked up through the clear plastic stretched taut over a silver frame, his fifth one in crystal clear transparency. Seeing the rivlets trickle down, fall from the edge made the rain worthwhile. Sometimes Niya twirled the umbrella when he thought no one was watching, just to see the drops fly.
“Can I stand here?” Those were the meek words greeting him one rainy afternoon at the bus stop. The storm had just started and the skinny form looking askance for shelter shivered in a light t-shirt. Nodding, Niya adjusted the position of the umbrella so it was covering both their heads. A murmured words of thanks reached his ears, then neither said a word until the bus pulled up.
Spring showers were frequent that year, regularly delighting in rhymic pattering over Niya’s umbrella. Routinely, he would share with the thin man who never seemed to be prepared for the weather. They never spoke, comfortably silent in the calming thrum of the rain.
The day Sakito arrived with his own umbrella to show off, Niya found the courage to ask, “Would you like to go out for coffee?”