Singing Rain [1/2]
Title: Singing Rain
Rating: PG
Focus/Pairing: Daehyun/Youngjae
Words: 7000+
Summary: Youngjae's iPhone app shows no forecast of rain.
A/N: For the_resolver @ thebrowniebunch fic exchange :))
Singing Rain [1/2]
The sky’s grey, the kind of grey that only butts seem to achieve. There’s no specks of familiar light blue or puffs of white that are either eggshell or vanilla. The sky’s monochromatic and perfect. There’s no clear distinction between what is really butt and sky, and Youngjae likes it like that. It’s all kinds of nondescript but simplicity at its best. It makes him dewy-eyed.
As he enjoys the silence of the scenery, he wonders if butt grey is a color--he’s never heard of it, though, so maybe not. It’s a shame, he thinks.
He sighs and chilled autumn wind runs through his blond tresses almost like gentle hands playing with his hair. He welcomes in the cold air, letting it freeze up his insides before breathing out some semblance of a sigh.
(and an intangible force steals his breath away, carrying it up higher and higher into the placid air, until it's nonexistent again.)
Youngjae only feels slightly lame for sitting on the roof of his apartment complex and doing what could be only considered as the complete opposite of star gazing. It’s morning, and an unholy hour for anyone to be up. However, a small smile finds itself on his face nonetheless, the kind reserved for when no one else is around.
From his spot from up above, Youngjae can see into the close distance, where the sea resides. Its waves are not roaring or crashing, or anything of the sort, they’re just kind of there--drifting.
Youngjae’s nose scrunches as a whiff of the sea air hits his senses. It reminds him of saltwater taffy, and the thought reaffirms for Youngjae that he’s running on a lack of sleep.
Without tearing his eyes away from the still waters, he lamely gropes for the cup of coffee sitting beside him on the ledge of the roof. Its paper rim is disheveled by incessant bitemarks and the lightest of stains. The styrofoam cup is empty and he nibbles on the edge some more. The air still lingers with bitter coffee; if not made more pungent from the crispness of the salty sea.
Aside than the smell, the only other reminders of the latte's existence resides at the bottom of the cup. The last few drops having come together to form some amorphous blob, before eventually settling into the smooth material.
A rush of ice skims past his skin and Youngjae wants to climb down from the roof--not because of the frigid cold or the way his fingers look almost purple, but to honestly just get more coffee. He longs for swirls of whipped cream as smooth as the winter weather. However, he doesn't leave, not yet, at least. He likes the way his frost bitten face feels and how wisps of white billows through the wind slowly after leaving his lips. Without a doubt one of the benefits of living by the sea is the view and the calmness. It's all so serene and picturesque that he wishes a photograph could actually capture the way he feels at that moment.
The sea breeze tickles at his nose again, this time drawing out a sneeze. He grips the ledge tightly to ensure he doesn't fall. For a second it feels like his soul’s trying to escape him, so he awkwardly says "bless you," to himself.
(“bless me.” is what he means.)
He crawls back from the ledge, satisfied with the day's sightseeing and confirmation. Youngjae for sure doesn’t understand soul searching, but he’s sure he’ll get the hang of it soon like Himchan says. The eldest attests that some of his best epiphanies transpired on their apartment’s roof. But that’s Himchan.
The blond pats his black jeans down, ridding the small gravel and dust coating his person. He smiles. It's ten am on a Saturday and Youngjae could use more caffeine in his system.
God, it’s early.
He heads to the door leading back down to the apartment. He struggles with the handle a bit, as the wind works against his favor and pushes on him. After a few minutes, the door relents and opens, causing him to fumble back slightly.
He curses the air for the first time that morning and walks down the stairs to head to the Starbucks right next door.
When he steps into the coffee chain the foreign environment causes his body to be enveloped with a sense of warmth he didn’t know he was lacking outside. The place is sparse at the hour, the real crowds having been in earlier: businessmen and college students lining up to get their daily fix of mocha. There’s only a few people still present.
The barista takes his order, his name tag reading Junhong. Youngjae takes a moment to record the kid's face, not recognizing him as one of the workers he sees so often. They have a short conversation about nothing in particular, it's nice though. Youngjae hopes to get acquainted with him more, maybe get discounts from him like he does the other workers.
He goes to sit at one of the satin chairs by the large window and cushy chairs. His eyes gloss over the titles of the magazines and newspapers which litter the knee-high table as he waits for his venti Pumpkin Spice or whatever coffee. He's not quite sure what he ordered, he just knows he wanted to be adventurous, and you don't get more wild than changing up your coffee.
Youngjae decides that after he finishes his pumpkin thing, he should head towards the university's library to study up for the classes he's been lacking in. The mere thought of studying makes his eyes droop in a tired fashion. He's sure that the hours he stays up late studying, as well, aren't a benefit to his already evident eyebags or deteriorating health.
His name is called right after something named a Caramel Macchiato and Youngjae tries to recall if that's what he really ordered. The male brushes it off and attributes his fading memory to too much time spent in the cold. He lifts himself up and treads towards his coffee, groaning as he makes the long trek up to his drink.
Junghong hands it to him with a smile and then heads to fulfill the orders of other awaiting customers, which is really only one person, probably.
Youngjae's hands are warmed up by the confection as he heads back to his spot by the window. He takes a tentative sip before his face messes up from the overly bitter taste. The first wave of sensations kills his taste buds slightly, before, as if to apologize, it soothes him with sweetness.
He can't decide whether or not he enjoys the torture and the immediate relief that ensues from the menu item. His tongue quickly swipes his bottom lip and is shocked once more with bitterness and a side of burnt caramel. Well, Youngjae thinks, I spent five dollars, might as well finish it.
Youngjae grips his Caramel Macchiato in both hands, ridding himself of the remnants of frigidness caused by the low temperature outside. He takes in a bit more of the coffee, growing accustomed to the taste. It warms up his throat.
He grabs yesterday’s paper off the coffee table and begins to read. He’s amusing himself with the comics, jumping from smiling at the humor and admiring the artwork and styles. Deep down he finds Garfield adorable.
Paper in one hand and coffee in the other, all he’s really missing now is some cake, but he’ll survive.
He's in the middle of restraining a smile from an old Calvin and Hobbes strip when Junhong takes a seat by him, still dressed in the company’s green apron. He’s got his own coffee and slumps in the chair. The barista looks like he’s honestly had the life sucked out of him. Youngjae can’t help but try to conceal a laugh.
Junhong looks at him with a raised brow and a smile, too.
“Tough first day, huh?” Youngjae inquires taking a sip from his caffeinated confection.
“You wouldn’t believe the half of it.” Junhong playfully groans as he slides further down into the chair, like some beaten down ragdoll (and with his strikingly blond hair and pale skin, maybe he was indeed a doll).
Youngjae looks at Junhong’s forlorn form with slight amusement, "The tragic life of a Starbucks employee, ay?" he then laughs as he turns the paper to the next page.
"Well, I wouldn't put it nearly as dramatic, but yes."
Youngjae shakes his head in amusement and drinks a bit more of the macchiato, trying to keep the wave of bitterness at bay.
Junhong seems to notice Youngjae's contorted face, "Not a fan of the drink?"
Youngjae shakes his head dismally and places both the cup and newspaper onto the coffee table.
"Yeah, I can't say I like that one much, either." Junhong takes a generous gulp of his whatever mixture, "I prefer it made upside down, that way all the coffee can spread evenly."
Youngjae shrugs his shoulder, “Maybe I’ll get it that way next time.”--whatever that means--“What are you drinking?”
“Raspberry Cheesecake. It’s off the secret menu,” he drinks some more, some white foam stains his pink lips.
“Oh.” Youngjae says, unaware that a secret menu even existed despite his loyal patronage over the years.
Junhong holds his cup out to him, “Wanna try some?” He’s leaning over in his chair slightly to pass the drink off. His long fingers are wrapped around the base. Youngjae’s contemplating whether or not it’s rude to steal Junhong’s coffee upon their first meeting, and he thinks maybe the second time is more appropriate. “I’ll pass. You have to buy me my own coffee first before we share one intimately, you know?”
Junhong smiles and shows off two perfect rows of teeth, “I’ll keep that in mind...” his words trail off as he realizes he hasn’t caught the other blond's name yet.
“Youngjae.”
“Youngjae.” Junhong repeats, making an effort to remember.
The two get further acquainted, feeling more comfortable with each other as they were both on a first name bases, although, in his head, Youngjae sometimes refers to Junhong as the Barista. It makes things in his mind sound more professional, in some odd way. Youngjae’s just weird like that.
A customer finally enters the quiet shop while they’re talking about Junhong’s hobby of skateboarding. The customer stands by the cash register for about a minute until Youngjae finally pokes Junhong out of his excited ramblings, “Umm... not to be rude or anything, but shouldn’t you be working right now?” Youngjae nods in the general direction of the patron.
Junhong checks his wristwatch, “Oh shit,” he exclaims, “my breaks over!” He scrambles straight up from his chair, nearly knocking over his own coffee. “It was really nice meeting you, come back again tomorrow, or something.” Junhong pushes the unfinished Raspberry Cheesecake drink into Youngjae’s hands, “Here,” he mouthed before rushing off to his shift.
The lone blond looks down at the drink before taking an experimental taste. It’s sweet, Youngjae notes, with obvious hints of raspberry. He likes it infinitely better than his Caramel Macchiato, which about lost all its heat a while ago. He looks down at the two drinks in his hands and decides to trash the cold caramel foam for the hotter raspberry. He figured it wasn’t really wasting money, since the second drink was free. Besides, his first one was much too bitter, anyway.
The clock on the wall tells Youngjae it’s somewhere around noon and he should bolt it towards the library if he has any hope of retaining the nonsensical info necessary for passing his college courses.
On his way out, Junhong waves at him and shouts that he should carry an umbrella, something about rain approaching.
He responds with a hum, suggesting he had heard the advice before leaving for the library half an hour away. The weather application on his iPhone says nothing about rain, so whatever.
However, when it’s seven at night and there’s a flood falling from the sky, it’s sort of hard to just brush off the weather. Youngjae isn't a fan of sunshine either, though, so he's somewhere between feeling elated and angry. Obviously, walking home in the heavy rain isn't the most enjoyable activity in the world, without an umbrella.
The library closes in five minutes.
Youngjae’s fingers twitch towards the phone in his pocket, wondering whether or not he could possibly get a ride home. He desperately wants to call Himchan to come and pick him up, but he knows he's on a date at the moment. There aren’t many options left for him, seeing as Himchan is his only friend with a license and a car.
Gnawing on his bottom lip gently, he tries to think of a clever way to walk home without getting wet, but it's not possible. His best bet is to run to a nearby convenience store and buy an umbrella, but by then he'd already be soaked to the bone. Youngjae’s left to curse under his breath as he continues to observe the water pelting against the window panes that decorate the library’s large front entrance. It’s like some kind of waterfall from the way it washes over the glass.
Youngjae at least tries to be optimistic about the whole situation; he thanks his lucky stars he didn't bring his backpack to study or else he'd be even more pissed if his North Face got wet (oh, and his textbooks too, he guesses).
He sucks up a deep breath and straightens his back. He pulls up the hood of his white sweatshirt and steps out of the warm comfort of the library, leaving behind the aged scent of words upon paper for wet gravel and plants.
At first the rain feels like tiny darts kneading into his skin, but it later numbs into the light proddings of a friend, albeit it’s still annoying. Continuously throughout his walk his hood is tossed carelessly aside by the wind, causing his thick blond locks to be matted down to his face. He's given up on it.
The wind whooshes past him, making him deaf to all other sounds, not that there's anything else to hear. In this weather, there is barely anyone out and most cars are just flashes of color as drivers rush home.
After the first three minutes, Youngjae's already tired of walking. His jeans cling uncomfortably against his skin, rubbing against his freezing thighs with each step. It hurts, but damn him if he stays out any longer. He quickens his pace, passing by warm restaurants and shops.
He's got another ten minutes of walking left to do by the time he feels like he might collapse from the weight of his soaked clothing and the malevolent ice seeping into his joints. He feels like at any point, he’s going to be carried off by the wind and thrown against some building.
Much of his path is dark and a bit dreary, the street lamps are the only objects lighting his way home. The pavement is the deepest of blacks, but from the way the street lights shines on them, it almost appears like onyx. His eyes instinctively follow the glistening, black road.
It almost feels like half of his brain has turned off as he mindlessly continues home. He tries to peer pass his wet bangs and the blinding water that trickles down his face. Youngjae’s finding it incredibly hard to see. Most everything is covered by a shroud of darkness. But there’s something a little way down the street that stands out. It’s a soft touch of grey, it’s really just a small blur. If it were not for the obnoxiously loud noises resonating from it, Youngjae thinks he would have missed the figure.
The blob jumps and bounces in every which way, producing mini tidal waves from the puddles it pounces upon. Youngjae wonders what kind of person just goes out at night to play in the freezing cold. He’s about to turn the street corner when the enigma shouts to him. Youngjae nearly needs to do a double take to make sure that he is the target of the words.
“Amazing weather, isn’t it?” The words are slightly muffled by the harsh tappings of the rain, not at all as crisp as the laughter from earlier. From the sound of his voice, Youngjae concludes that the stranger is indeed a male. Possibly a crazy one, at that.
“Are you having fun, too?”
All Youngjae can do is blink and wonder.
“What was that? I can’t hear you!”
When the guy receives no answer, he continues to skip towards Youngjae, or more like gliding with ease. He’s nimble and light with his steps, never fumbling, he even jumps in every puddle along his path. The closer he gets, the easier Youngjae can distinguish his features: brunette hair, slim frame (though still slightly bigger than Youngjae’s), around the same age, and a smile that takes up the entire lower half of his face.
Youngjae has no clue what keeps him glued to his spot watching the man dance among the raindrops. It’s not an everyday occurrence, he’s sure.
When the guy finally reaches Youngjae’s location, his appearance is accompanied by a splash. He lands in a puddle not one foot away from the blond, leaving Youngjae’s soaked jeans one level wetter than before.
“Isn’t this a wonderful night?” The words fall out of the brunette’s mouth, piercing through the cascade of rain.
Youngjae furrows his brows, trying to catch the scent of alcohol. And there’s a hint, but Youngjae honestly finds it hard to trust his senses--there’s really just petrichor.
Tipsy or not, though, he still has this overwhelming feeling to agree with the guy, seeing as the grin on his face seems so fixed and genuine. Youngjae nods and bites his tongue. He opens his mouth to say something when an onslaught of rainwater crashes into them from overhead. It’s a flurry of water and it’s a shock to both their systems. A car is off speeding away from them.
It’s like that feeling when you're on a water ride at an amusement park and the climactic 70 foot drop causes all the water to displace into the car like a freight train at full speed. It’s a shock to the system. Water falls inside the crooks of their shirts and other crevices. However, for Youngjae, it’s a mouthful of griminess, as well.
They then stare at each other in a state of mutual speechlessness. Youngjae’s jaw is hanging open and his hair dripping even more. The other guy’s in a similar state, except the fact that his face slowly contorts itself back into a smile and, soon enough, the boy’s laughing. He’s holding onto the sides of his stomach, back hunched forward, gasping for air. His laughter is infectious and loud. He’s making the ugliest expression Youngjae’s ever seen, but it works in making him smile, too.
The two are both fools laughing maniacally in the pouring rain; it’s nearly impossible to tell which of the two is actually the sober one.
Perhaps the rainwater was intoxicating in itself.
After some time the stranger calms down and he holds his hand out to Youngjae, “I’m Daehyun. Nice to meet ya.”
Youngjae clears his throat, “My name’s Youngjae.”
“Awesome. I’m hungry.” And that’s the only explanation Youngjae gets as he’s dragged off to God knows where in the dead of night.
ii
Rating: PG
Focus/Pairing: Daehyun/Youngjae
Words: 7000+
Summary: Youngjae's iPhone app shows no forecast of rain.
A/N: For the_resolver @ thebrowniebunch fic exchange :))
Singing Rain [1/2]
The sky’s grey, the kind of grey that only butts seem to achieve. There’s no specks of familiar light blue or puffs of white that are either eggshell or vanilla. The sky’s monochromatic and perfect. There’s no clear distinction between what is really butt and sky, and Youngjae likes it like that. It’s all kinds of nondescript but simplicity at its best. It makes him dewy-eyed.
As he enjoys the silence of the scenery, he wonders if butt grey is a color--he’s never heard of it, though, so maybe not. It’s a shame, he thinks.
He sighs and chilled autumn wind runs through his blond tresses almost like gentle hands playing with his hair. He welcomes in the cold air, letting it freeze up his insides before breathing out some semblance of a sigh.
(and an intangible force steals his breath away, carrying it up higher and higher into the placid air, until it's nonexistent again.)
Youngjae only feels slightly lame for sitting on the roof of his apartment complex and doing what could be only considered as the complete opposite of star gazing. It’s morning, and an unholy hour for anyone to be up. However, a small smile finds itself on his face nonetheless, the kind reserved for when no one else is around.
From his spot from up above, Youngjae can see into the close distance, where the sea resides. Its waves are not roaring or crashing, or anything of the sort, they’re just kind of there--drifting.
Youngjae’s nose scrunches as a whiff of the sea air hits his senses. It reminds him of saltwater taffy, and the thought reaffirms for Youngjae that he’s running on a lack of sleep.
Without tearing his eyes away from the still waters, he lamely gropes for the cup of coffee sitting beside him on the ledge of the roof. Its paper rim is disheveled by incessant bitemarks and the lightest of stains. The styrofoam cup is empty and he nibbles on the edge some more. The air still lingers with bitter coffee; if not made more pungent from the crispness of the salty sea.
Aside than the smell, the only other reminders of the latte's existence resides at the bottom of the cup. The last few drops having come together to form some amorphous blob, before eventually settling into the smooth material.
A rush of ice skims past his skin and Youngjae wants to climb down from the roof--not because of the frigid cold or the way his fingers look almost purple, but to honestly just get more coffee. He longs for swirls of whipped cream as smooth as the winter weather. However, he doesn't leave, not yet, at least. He likes the way his frost bitten face feels and how wisps of white billows through the wind slowly after leaving his lips. Without a doubt one of the benefits of living by the sea is the view and the calmness. It's all so serene and picturesque that he wishes a photograph could actually capture the way he feels at that moment.
The sea breeze tickles at his nose again, this time drawing out a sneeze. He grips the ledge tightly to ensure he doesn't fall. For a second it feels like his soul’s trying to escape him, so he awkwardly says "bless you," to himself.
(“bless me.” is what he means.)
He crawls back from the ledge, satisfied with the day's sightseeing and confirmation. Youngjae for sure doesn’t understand soul searching, but he’s sure he’ll get the hang of it soon like Himchan says. The eldest attests that some of his best epiphanies transpired on their apartment’s roof. But that’s Himchan.
The blond pats his black jeans down, ridding the small gravel and dust coating his person. He smiles. It's ten am on a Saturday and Youngjae could use more caffeine in his system.
God, it’s early.
He heads to the door leading back down to the apartment. He struggles with the handle a bit, as the wind works against his favor and pushes on him. After a few minutes, the door relents and opens, causing him to fumble back slightly.
He curses the air for the first time that morning and walks down the stairs to head to the Starbucks right next door.
When he steps into the coffee chain the foreign environment causes his body to be enveloped with a sense of warmth he didn’t know he was lacking outside. The place is sparse at the hour, the real crowds having been in earlier: businessmen and college students lining up to get their daily fix of mocha. There’s only a few people still present.
The barista takes his order, his name tag reading Junhong. Youngjae takes a moment to record the kid's face, not recognizing him as one of the workers he sees so often. They have a short conversation about nothing in particular, it's nice though. Youngjae hopes to get acquainted with him more, maybe get discounts from him like he does the other workers.
He goes to sit at one of the satin chairs by the large window and cushy chairs. His eyes gloss over the titles of the magazines and newspapers which litter the knee-high table as he waits for his venti Pumpkin Spice or whatever coffee. He's not quite sure what he ordered, he just knows he wanted to be adventurous, and you don't get more wild than changing up your coffee.
Youngjae decides that after he finishes his pumpkin thing, he should head towards the university's library to study up for the classes he's been lacking in. The mere thought of studying makes his eyes droop in a tired fashion. He's sure that the hours he stays up late studying, as well, aren't a benefit to his already evident eyebags or deteriorating health.
His name is called right after something named a Caramel Macchiato and Youngjae tries to recall if that's what he really ordered. The male brushes it off and attributes his fading memory to too much time spent in the cold. He lifts himself up and treads towards his coffee, groaning as he makes the long trek up to his drink.
Junghong hands it to him with a smile and then heads to fulfill the orders of other awaiting customers, which is really only one person, probably.
Youngjae's hands are warmed up by the confection as he heads back to his spot by the window. He takes a tentative sip before his face messes up from the overly bitter taste. The first wave of sensations kills his taste buds slightly, before, as if to apologize, it soothes him with sweetness.
He can't decide whether or not he enjoys the torture and the immediate relief that ensues from the menu item. His tongue quickly swipes his bottom lip and is shocked once more with bitterness and a side of burnt caramel. Well, Youngjae thinks, I spent five dollars, might as well finish it.
Youngjae grips his Caramel Macchiato in both hands, ridding himself of the remnants of frigidness caused by the low temperature outside. He takes in a bit more of the coffee, growing accustomed to the taste. It warms up his throat.
He grabs yesterday’s paper off the coffee table and begins to read. He’s amusing himself with the comics, jumping from smiling at the humor and admiring the artwork and styles. Deep down he finds Garfield adorable.
Paper in one hand and coffee in the other, all he’s really missing now is some cake, but he’ll survive.
He's in the middle of restraining a smile from an old Calvin and Hobbes strip when Junhong takes a seat by him, still dressed in the company’s green apron. He’s got his own coffee and slumps in the chair. The barista looks like he’s honestly had the life sucked out of him. Youngjae can’t help but try to conceal a laugh.
Junhong looks at him with a raised brow and a smile, too.
“Tough first day, huh?” Youngjae inquires taking a sip from his caffeinated confection.
“You wouldn’t believe the half of it.” Junhong playfully groans as he slides further down into the chair, like some beaten down ragdoll (and with his strikingly blond hair and pale skin, maybe he was indeed a doll).
Youngjae looks at Junhong’s forlorn form with slight amusement, "The tragic life of a Starbucks employee, ay?" he then laughs as he turns the paper to the next page.
"Well, I wouldn't put it nearly as dramatic, but yes."
Youngjae shakes his head in amusement and drinks a bit more of the macchiato, trying to keep the wave of bitterness at bay.
Junhong seems to notice Youngjae's contorted face, "Not a fan of the drink?"
Youngjae shakes his head dismally and places both the cup and newspaper onto the coffee table.
"Yeah, I can't say I like that one much, either." Junhong takes a generous gulp of his whatever mixture, "I prefer it made upside down, that way all the coffee can spread evenly."
Youngjae shrugs his shoulder, “Maybe I’ll get it that way next time.”--whatever that means--“What are you drinking?”
“Raspberry Cheesecake. It’s off the secret menu,” he drinks some more, some white foam stains his pink lips.
“Oh.” Youngjae says, unaware that a secret menu even existed despite his loyal patronage over the years.
Junhong holds his cup out to him, “Wanna try some?” He’s leaning over in his chair slightly to pass the drink off. His long fingers are wrapped around the base. Youngjae’s contemplating whether or not it’s rude to steal Junhong’s coffee upon their first meeting, and he thinks maybe the second time is more appropriate. “I’ll pass. You have to buy me my own coffee first before we share one intimately, you know?”
Junhong smiles and shows off two perfect rows of teeth, “I’ll keep that in mind...” his words trail off as he realizes he hasn’t caught the other blond's name yet.
“Youngjae.”
“Youngjae.” Junhong repeats, making an effort to remember.
The two get further acquainted, feeling more comfortable with each other as they were both on a first name bases, although, in his head, Youngjae sometimes refers to Junhong as the Barista. It makes things in his mind sound more professional, in some odd way. Youngjae’s just weird like that.
A customer finally enters the quiet shop while they’re talking about Junhong’s hobby of skateboarding. The customer stands by the cash register for about a minute until Youngjae finally pokes Junhong out of his excited ramblings, “Umm... not to be rude or anything, but shouldn’t you be working right now?” Youngjae nods in the general direction of the patron.
Junhong checks his wristwatch, “Oh shit,” he exclaims, “my breaks over!” He scrambles straight up from his chair, nearly knocking over his own coffee. “It was really nice meeting you, come back again tomorrow, or something.” Junhong pushes the unfinished Raspberry Cheesecake drink into Youngjae’s hands, “Here,” he mouthed before rushing off to his shift.
The lone blond looks down at the drink before taking an experimental taste. It’s sweet, Youngjae notes, with obvious hints of raspberry. He likes it infinitely better than his Caramel Macchiato, which about lost all its heat a while ago. He looks down at the two drinks in his hands and decides to trash the cold caramel foam for the hotter raspberry. He figured it wasn’t really wasting money, since the second drink was free. Besides, his first one was much too bitter, anyway.
The clock on the wall tells Youngjae it’s somewhere around noon and he should bolt it towards the library if he has any hope of retaining the nonsensical info necessary for passing his college courses.
On his way out, Junhong waves at him and shouts that he should carry an umbrella, something about rain approaching.
He responds with a hum, suggesting he had heard the advice before leaving for the library half an hour away. The weather application on his iPhone says nothing about rain, so whatever.
However, when it’s seven at night and there’s a flood falling from the sky, it’s sort of hard to just brush off the weather. Youngjae isn't a fan of sunshine either, though, so he's somewhere between feeling elated and angry. Obviously, walking home in the heavy rain isn't the most enjoyable activity in the world, without an umbrella.
The library closes in five minutes.
Youngjae’s fingers twitch towards the phone in his pocket, wondering whether or not he could possibly get a ride home. He desperately wants to call Himchan to come and pick him up, but he knows he's on a date at the moment. There aren’t many options left for him, seeing as Himchan is his only friend with a license and a car.
Gnawing on his bottom lip gently, he tries to think of a clever way to walk home without getting wet, but it's not possible. His best bet is to run to a nearby convenience store and buy an umbrella, but by then he'd already be soaked to the bone. Youngjae’s left to curse under his breath as he continues to observe the water pelting against the window panes that decorate the library’s large front entrance. It’s like some kind of waterfall from the way it washes over the glass.
Youngjae at least tries to be optimistic about the whole situation; he thanks his lucky stars he didn't bring his backpack to study or else he'd be even more pissed if his North Face got wet (oh, and his textbooks too, he guesses).
He sucks up a deep breath and straightens his back. He pulls up the hood of his white sweatshirt and steps out of the warm comfort of the library, leaving behind the aged scent of words upon paper for wet gravel and plants.
At first the rain feels like tiny darts kneading into his skin, but it later numbs into the light proddings of a friend, albeit it’s still annoying. Continuously throughout his walk his hood is tossed carelessly aside by the wind, causing his thick blond locks to be matted down to his face. He's given up on it.
The wind whooshes past him, making him deaf to all other sounds, not that there's anything else to hear. In this weather, there is barely anyone out and most cars are just flashes of color as drivers rush home.
After the first three minutes, Youngjae's already tired of walking. His jeans cling uncomfortably against his skin, rubbing against his freezing thighs with each step. It hurts, but damn him if he stays out any longer. He quickens his pace, passing by warm restaurants and shops.
He's got another ten minutes of walking left to do by the time he feels like he might collapse from the weight of his soaked clothing and the malevolent ice seeping into his joints. He feels like at any point, he’s going to be carried off by the wind and thrown against some building.
Much of his path is dark and a bit dreary, the street lamps are the only objects lighting his way home. The pavement is the deepest of blacks, but from the way the street lights shines on them, it almost appears like onyx. His eyes instinctively follow the glistening, black road.
It almost feels like half of his brain has turned off as he mindlessly continues home. He tries to peer pass his wet bangs and the blinding water that trickles down his face. Youngjae’s finding it incredibly hard to see. Most everything is covered by a shroud of darkness. But there’s something a little way down the street that stands out. It’s a soft touch of grey, it’s really just a small blur. If it were not for the obnoxiously loud noises resonating from it, Youngjae thinks he would have missed the figure.
The blob jumps and bounces in every which way, producing mini tidal waves from the puddles it pounces upon. Youngjae wonders what kind of person just goes out at night to play in the freezing cold. He’s about to turn the street corner when the enigma shouts to him. Youngjae nearly needs to do a double take to make sure that he is the target of the words.
“Amazing weather, isn’t it?” The words are slightly muffled by the harsh tappings of the rain, not at all as crisp as the laughter from earlier. From the sound of his voice, Youngjae concludes that the stranger is indeed a male. Possibly a crazy one, at that.
“Are you having fun, too?”
All Youngjae can do is blink and wonder.
“What was that? I can’t hear you!”
When the guy receives no answer, he continues to skip towards Youngjae, or more like gliding with ease. He’s nimble and light with his steps, never fumbling, he even jumps in every puddle along his path. The closer he gets, the easier Youngjae can distinguish his features: brunette hair, slim frame (though still slightly bigger than Youngjae’s), around the same age, and a smile that takes up the entire lower half of his face.
Youngjae has no clue what keeps him glued to his spot watching the man dance among the raindrops. It’s not an everyday occurrence, he’s sure.
When the guy finally reaches Youngjae’s location, his appearance is accompanied by a splash. He lands in a puddle not one foot away from the blond, leaving Youngjae’s soaked jeans one level wetter than before.
“Isn’t this a wonderful night?” The words fall out of the brunette’s mouth, piercing through the cascade of rain.
Youngjae furrows his brows, trying to catch the scent of alcohol. And there’s a hint, but Youngjae honestly finds it hard to trust his senses--there’s really just petrichor.
Tipsy or not, though, he still has this overwhelming feeling to agree with the guy, seeing as the grin on his face seems so fixed and genuine. Youngjae nods and bites his tongue. He opens his mouth to say something when an onslaught of rainwater crashes into them from overhead. It’s a flurry of water and it’s a shock to both their systems. A car is off speeding away from them.
It’s like that feeling when you're on a water ride at an amusement park and the climactic 70 foot drop causes all the water to displace into the car like a freight train at full speed. It’s a shock to the system. Water falls inside the crooks of their shirts and other crevices. However, for Youngjae, it’s a mouthful of griminess, as well.
They then stare at each other in a state of mutual speechlessness. Youngjae’s jaw is hanging open and his hair dripping even more. The other guy’s in a similar state, except the fact that his face slowly contorts itself back into a smile and, soon enough, the boy’s laughing. He’s holding onto the sides of his stomach, back hunched forward, gasping for air. His laughter is infectious and loud. He’s making the ugliest expression Youngjae’s ever seen, but it works in making him smile, too.
The two are both fools laughing maniacally in the pouring rain; it’s nearly impossible to tell which of the two is actually the sober one.
Perhaps the rainwater was intoxicating in itself.
After some time the stranger calms down and he holds his hand out to Youngjae, “I’m Daehyun. Nice to meet ya.”
Youngjae clears his throat, “My name’s Youngjae.”
“Awesome. I’m hungry.” And that’s the only explanation Youngjae gets as he’s dragged off to God knows where in the dead of night.
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