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Shinsuke had always liked the water.
Tanahashi, on the other hand, was not so fond of it.
It made his sitting out here unusual, to say the least. This was rain. A light storm, equally as unusual in mid-summer. He had watched from inside, halfway through a workout he probably didn’t need today but would follow through on anyway, as the sky had darkened, but as was characteristic with these strange summertime showers, the rest of the world hadn’t followed suit, merely dimming, creating a surreal contrast between the sky above and the ground below. A cool breeze began to blow, but the temperature, overall, had remained balmy. Then came the rain; light at first, then growing heavier, fat droplets all falling to the Earth in rapid succession.
And Tanahashi, his mind entirely elsewhere today, it seemed, had been entranced. Motivated by some energy entirely unbeknownst to him before now, he had abandoned whatever he had planned to do next, and gone outside.
Sat down.
Closed his eyes.
And let himself experience the rain.
Which, of course, led to him thinking about Shinsuke. As many things often did.
Maybe Shinsuke only liked certain types of water. It sounded ridiculous, but he had heard more ridiculous things come out of that man’s mouth. Not this type of water. Rain. Otherwise he would be out here with Tana right now, wouldn’t he?
He was probably looking for him. Tana wondered how long it would take him to think to look outside, into the rain, the water, that he usually so dutifully avoided.
But not today. The rain was nice. It was nice.
He had never really understood Shinsuke’s love for water. The ocean, specifically. He liked it well enough himself, but sometimes the sand and the salt made his eyes sting and his hair stiff and itchy, and then he didn’t like the ocean so much. These little irritations didn’t seem to bother Shinsuke, but Tana wasn’t Shinsuke in a lot of ways.
However, this rain - the pleasantly cool, not cold, droplets rolling off his hair, over his cheeks and lips, down his bare chest and back, forming tiny rivers in the curves and valleys of his body, a stark contrast of sensation against his skin that was still hot beneath the surface - admittedly, it helped him come a little closer to an understanding of this enigmatic state of mind of Shinsuke’s that he had never fully grasped. Another clue, he supposed, to solving a mystery that he knew never would be.
“What are you doing?”
He hadn’t heard Shinsuke’s approaching footsteps behind him, and wouldn’t have seen him anyway even if his eyes had been open. Regardless, he didn’t flinch or move from his position in any way other than to move his mouth to respond to him,
“Sitting. Thinking.”
“In the rain?”
Tana considered elaborating, but had no idea what to say about it himself, and so decided to offer no further explanation. It wasn’t the first time, not even close, that either of them had done things they couldn’t explain to the other, and he knew Shinsuke wouldn’t take it as rude, would shrug the silence off as easily as water rolling off skin, as easily as he did so many other things. Maybe that was the secret to his love of water; he was similar to it himself in his various ways.
He heard Shinsuke shift his weight, likely to lean against the doorway he was stood in. Silence fell between them, but it couldn’t be called silence, not really. It never was; there was always the gentle hum of companionship running between them, the comfort in being able to be in someone else’s presence without needing to acknowledge it. Something that came with time, and age, and scars, and wrinkles and grey hairs that Tana preferred not to think about. But right now that hum was accompanied by the patter and pop of the rain drops colliding with the world around them, striking the concrete pavement, the leaves of trees, the glass windows and the roofs of houses. An unconventional rhythm, but one that Tana found his heart at peace with.
Maybe this was the feeling Shinsuke enjoyed so much when he threw himself out there, into the waves. He had, after all, never liked the conventional, or been able to dance in time to a rhythm set for him by someone else.
Eventually, he heard Shinsuke step out to join him on the porch. The wood of the porch beneath the both of them creaked ever so slightly beneath his weight with every footstep. He stopped, and Tana could sense him standing just behind him, his knee by Tana’s shoulder.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” he said.
“Like what?”
“The rain. Getting wet.” Tana could hear the barely held back snicker in his voice. There was a joke about him and his hair, one made so many times before, just waiting to be told.
“I never said that.”
Shinsuke hummed in response this time, a neutral answer, one that was neither a possibly argumentative no or a relenting yes. Always one to resist admitting he was wrong, in even the smallest of ways. But they had argued about this before, and it had always led back to fingers pointed in both directions and neither of them being able to deny it. As was the case with many of their arguments.
He moved again, this time to sit where he had been stood, the sounds of his clothes rubbing together as he did occupying one of Tana’s ears. Denim on denim, cotton on cotton. He caught the sounds of his terrible, terrible knees clicking and cracking, as they did, and there was another joke to be made there. One that only Tana was allowed to make because his own were just as bad and they both knew it. He didn’t, though, continuing to focus on the sounds of the rain, of water and, now, he supposed, of Shinsuke. He felt his knee just barely brush his lower back as he shifted and adjusted his position just behind one of his shoulders. His bare skin prickled at his proximity.
He said nothing, but Tana knew Shinsuke was watching him. It wasn’t uncomfortable - just as with the silence, it never was. They both caught the other staring at times, sometimes without even realizing what they were doing. Thinking. Wondering. About how the other simply accomplished the feat of merely existing in the way that they did. About their movements; their thoughts; their feelings; their mind. Tana could know Shinsuke for a hundred years and he was sure he would never figure out what was going on inside his head most of the time. But he was going to try, whether the logical side of himself liked it or not.
He felt, first, long, slender - but roughened by years of hard work - fingers, brushing away the damp but not yet soaked locks of hair that fell against his neck and collarbone. Then followed a slow, gentle, warm kiss, lip far softer than his fingers, the perfect sensation in-between the cool rain droplets and his heated skin. First to the place where his collar met his neck, where his hair had been just before. Then another to the top of his shoulder, just before the muscle began it’s slope downwards. And another to his shoulder blade just below that, and then one more to the space where his spine ran alongside it, a place that sometimes hurt unbearably from all the wear and tear and abuse that he brought on himself but now didn’t, not at all. The tiny rivers that had tracked their way over his skin were broken, blocked and diverted, the geography of his body shifted and changed by Shinsuke’s touch.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” It was less of a question and more of a statement, murmured into and slightly muffled by the skin and muscle and fat of his back that Shinsuke spoke into, where he had come to rest his bowed forehead. Tana could feel his every breath, little patches of warmth forming on him with each of Shinsuke’s exhales. The corners of his lips spiked upwards, almost involuntarily, in a small smile.
“You’re very distracting, you know that?”
The previously steady pattern of his breathing was broken as Shinsuke breathed out a laugh. He was grinning, Tana knew; he could feel the muscles in his face change against his spine.
“It’s not my fault. I can’t help it if I distract you.”
Tana’s own smile grew a little more, but he maintained his own stillness, eyes remaining closed off to the world. This time, it was his turn to hum a contemplative sound in response to Shinsuke.
“So it’s my fault, then?”
A small sigh was Shinsuke’s response this time, but it was a fond one, humored. “Don’t be so self-obsessed.”
“Don’t be so distracting,” Tana repeated.
“I told you, I can’t help it.” The weight of Shinsuke’s forehead suddenly left the muscles of his back as he lifted his head, but the sensation was quickly replaced as he leaned in closer and rested his chin on his shoulder. His voice was no longer muffled and quiet, now quite clear and close in Tana’s ear; even in spite of his low tone, the sudden change was exhilarating as he spoke, “Would you rather I stop?”
Tana’s smile grew into a proper grin, now.
“You already know the answer to that.”
No longer able to resist, Tana opened his eyes, at last, and turned his head to look at Shinsuke. His eyes were soft and almost pensive as he looked back at Tana, studying his face, but there was the flicker of a playful tease behind there, his frivolous nature, one that was always there no matter how dark things got, and especially when it was just the two of them. The rain had yet to get to Shinsuke like it had him, but it was well on it’s way, his cheekbone and jawline already traced by small, delicate streams. His hair was damp, too, not as much as Tana’s but growing damper by the second, and although it was tied back, loose strands, short corkscrews and longer ringlets, spun out all over the place. If it were Tana, the spontaneity of it all, the messiness , would drive him mad; somehow, on Shinsuke, it appeared perfectly imperfect.
Perhaps in response to Tana’s own widened smile, or perhaps just out of smug glee at his success in completely and utterly distracting him, Shinsuke beamed, large and toothily, back at him. The laughter lines around his eyes deepened, creases that Tana hated so much on himself but loved so much on Shinsuke. A tiny droplet landed on the curve of his bottom lip.
“I knew you loved me.”
“Oh? That’s what it took to convince you?” He tried to play it deadpan, ironic, but before he could stop it the laugh had seeped out and into his voice. Then Shinsuke joined in, the both of them laughing at each other, and the sounds of their laughter joined the already present soundscape of the summer storm around them. A momentary cheerful interlude that soon died away once again into their relaxed, not-silent silence. A gutter overflowing in a house nearby added another layer to the tune.
Tana turned his head how he had been positioned before, looking out ahead of him. The colors of everything in front of him, grass, wood, even the sky, with it’s rolling layers of silver and gunmetal, were heavy in hue and shade, rich and almost coming back to life under the touch of the moisture. Water was, after all, a life force. He had read that somewhere, or heard it, maybe, back in school.
“The rain is stopping.” Shinsuke’s eyes had followed Tana’s out to the scene in front of them. He was right; the droplets were becoming less rapid and shrinking in size, hitting Tana’s skin in small pit-a-pats now rather than in larger splats. There were few reprieves from the sweltering summer here, and when there were, they were rarely of any remarkable length. Tana nodded, but didn’t say anything; a light gust of wind, still warm even in spite of the rain, blew, and with it came the clattering song of wind chimes a street over.
“So why?”
Tana knew what he was asking, but questioned him back anyway, “Why what?”
“Why are you sitting in the rain?”
He paused for a moment; as he did, Shinsuke shifted his head, angling it to one side slightly to get a better look at him. “I wanted to see what you like so much about it.”
“About the rain?”
“About the water.”
Shinsuke laughed again at that, not maliciously, but in an expression of endearment. When he looked back at him again, Tana could see as much on his face. He had expected him to, and Tana joined in with him in spite of himself. It was silly, after all - no sane or normal person sat in the rain - but in the back of his mind knew even silly actions had their merits.
Even when his laughter at Tana had died away, the smile remained on Shinsuke’s face as he looked at him. “I could take you to the beach, you know.”
“I suppose. It’s kind of far away.”
“Take you to the ocean. Put you on a surfboard…”
“I always thought that looked kind of dangerous-”
“...push you out to sea…”
“Nevermind, nevermind.” Tana gave a small shake of his head, lightly, careful not to move too much so as to disturb Shinsuke’s position against him. “I’ll stay on land, thank you.”
Shinsuke was once more amused by that. Sometimes Tana thought his entire purpose in Shinsuke’s life was to humor him. “Don’t worry. If you get in trouble, I’ll come rescue you.”
“On your surfboard?” The idea of Shinsuke riding in to save him on his surfboard like a cheesy television action hero was as entertaining to Tana as he was sure the idea of him on a surfboard at all was to Shinsuke.
“On my surfboard,” he affirmed.
“That’s not comforting. I think you spend more time falling off the board than you do on it,” Tana pointed out, and Shinsuke put a mock show of hurt on his face. The entire time, the smile still remained behind his eyes. “And then we’ll both be stuck out there.”
“And Shibata will be left to steer the ship.” At that, it was Tana’s turn to look pained, and Shinsuke broke down into a fit of laughter once more in response. Tana positively adored his laugh, warm and full and genuine, always genuine in a world where so much wasn’t, and right now it reverberated through him, through all the bones and muscles of his upper body.
“So what do you think?” Shinsuke finally asked him. He still seemed bemused, but entertained, by Tana’s attempt to reach enlightenment through sitting in a storm, the fact that it was hardly more than a summer shower notwithstanding. “Did the rain teach you anything?”
“I think…” Tana paused. He glanced around him, at the trees and the grass, at the porch and the neighborhood, at all the natural hues of green and brown and grey. He looked down at himself, at his athletic shorts, almost saturated, at all the rivulets of water forming trails on his tan skin, and at the handful of droplets that remained in one place, perfectly formed little orbs that seemed content to stay as they had landed. Then he looked back at Shinsuke; it was no longer raining as hard on them, certainly, but it was still enough to sprinkle the two of them with droplets. He could see a couple beads caught in Shinsuke’s eyelashes.
“I think my hair is ruined,” he finished.
Shinsuke snorted and Tana waited for the joke, something involving a show dog, no doubt, that never came. Shinsuke, this time, said nothing, letting his amused smile and fond gaze as he eyed him speak for themselves. He reached over with a hand and, once again, pushed a lock of Tana’s hair away, this time one that had gone astray and fallen over one eyebrow. Still not entirely soaked through. Still salvageable, if he should have to go out later today.
Thoughts of hair and thoughts entirely were erased as Shinsuke leaned across and over his shoulder and angled his head in to softly press his lips to Tana’s. A drop got caught between them; Tana could feel it burst against his own lips as he moved to kiss him back. Shinsuke’s own face was dripping with streams of raindrops, now, and as he kissed him a rivulet ran down the ever so off center bridge of his nose to splatter onto the top of Tana’s chest.
As it did, the first ray of sun broke through the thick clouds that had previously muted the sky, the very same that had caught Tana’s attention in the first place. Tana couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, the warmth hitting his skin, radiating out across his body. Or perhaps it wasn’t the sun, perhaps it was coming from within him, adoration and affection and familiarity and love pouring out from within his heart, flooding his ribcage and filling his chest. When he did open his eyes, he did to find everything had become impossibly brighter, illuminated with a newborn glow, enlivened.
The world had fallen quiet beneath the rain, but now it woke again. And the rain itself caught the light; all the droplets, the tiny rivers criss-crossing his and Shinsuke’s skin, all turned golden and white in the new light. From his eyelashes to his eyebrows, the top of his head to his chin, as he gazed at him over his shoulder, Shinsuke glimmered and gleamed, with more brilliant shine than he had ever seen on any belt or trophy put in front of him.
And Tana certainly saw the beauty in the water now.