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The rapping against the glass window pane rang out dully in Mitsuru’s bedroom, cutting into the sound of the smooth rainfall in concise knocks. It took another two sets of three to get him out of bed and over to the window, his hazy, sleep-filled eyes barely registering who was waiting on the other side.
“Boss?” He mumbled to himself, much too quietly to hear through the glass. Kazuo raised his fist and merely knocked three more times in response. Mitsuru got the message as the cloudiness of sleep abruptly left him, flinging open the window and allowing a soaking wet Kazuo to crawl inside.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Mitsuru asked. Kazuo stood in silence, his rain soaked clothes dripping onto the wooden floor and forming a puddle of water at his feet. They watched each other for a second more before lightning struck outside; as Kazuo’s sharp features caught the light for that split second, Mitsuru realized why he had come.
“I’m cold,” Kazuo offered in place of an answer. “Could you - ”
“Y-yeah, sure.” Considering the state of his bedroom, it wasn’t difficult for Mitsuru to find spare clothes lying around. Kazuo had managed to find a discarded towel and was drying his hair with it, much to Mitsuru’s dismay - after all, he had no idea where it had been and couldn’t guarantee it was good enough for his Boss.
When he was finished, Kazuo traded the old towel for the fresh clothes in Mitsuru’s hands, not hesitating to begin undressing right in front of him. As Kazuo peeled the soaking wet clothes from his body, Mitsuru promptly turned away, heat rising to his cheeks.
“Hey, y’know, you don’t have to - ”
“It is fine.”
“ It is fine.” Kazuo spoke calmly despite the fact that Mitsuru was a shaking mess. “There is no danger.”
“Yeah, I mean, I know, b-but…” Mitsuru stammered uncharacteristically. A peal of thunder shook the glass of his bedroom window and he retreated even further into himself, clutching his knees to his chest. Kazuo hovered next to him, knees folded neatly on the hardwood as he observed Mitsuru’s perplexing emotional state.
“I… I’m scared, Boss. I know it’s stupid, but I’m… afraid of thunderstorms…” It was embarassing for him to reveal something like this to someone he had only just met a few months ago, let alone Kazuo, who he respected so much. Losing face in front of him was something he may never come back from… why did he have to invite him over today of all days?
Without warning, Kazuo closed the space between them, wrapping his arms tightly around Mitsuru’s quaking shoulders and squeezing firmly. Speechless, Mitsuru sat stock still on the floor, his heart racing even faster than before as Kazuo pressed the length of their bodies together.
“How does it feel?” Kazuo asked, his voice calm and composed, his soft breath caressing the nape of Mitsuru’s neck as he spoke. Mitsuru had no idea how he could possibly maintain Kazuo’s level of composure in this situation, but he tried his best when he attempted to answer the question.
“U-um, what… what do you mean?” His tongue felt ten times heavier with each word he spoke.
“The pressure. It is supposed to relieve anxiety.” Kazuo pressed against him even more tightly and Mitsuru felt his breath hitch in his throat. “Is it working?”
“Mitsuru.” He turned to face Kazuo, who was looking much less put together than usual: jet-black hair damp and out of place, borrowed clothes hanging awkwardly from a frame that was slightly too small to fill them out. Mitsuru wanted to respond, but couldn’t get the words out. The sight of Kazuo wearing his clothes had apparently rendered him speechless.
Without another word, Kazuo sat himself down on Mitsuru’s bed, waiting atop the covers and watching the other boy expectantly. Without meeting his gaze, Mitsuru approached the opposite side of the bed, pulling back a corner of the covers and getting underneath them. He desperately hoped that it was too dark for Kazuo to see the blush that covered his face.
“Um… I think it’s… workin’...” Mitsuru finally managed to answer. He wasn’t sure how to articulate it, but he didn’t think he felt afraid. Sure, there was a distinct feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, but it was mingling with confusion and joy and embarrassment simultaneously.
“Would you like me to stay?” Refusing to agonize over which response was best, Mitsuru immediately answered.
“Yeah..”
Kazuo pulled away and simply folded his hands in his lap, watching Mitsuru’s expression with interest. For a moment, they merely watched each other, the deep hum of the rain storm the only sound in the room before thunder once again rumbled somewhere in the distance. Mitsuru shuddered and Kazuo held him.
Cold feet brushed against Mitsuru’s skin as Kazuo slipped under the covers, their legs almost entwining as Kazuo settled next to him. The familiar feeling of butterflies filled his stomach as Kazuo’s arms looped around him, his chest pressed tightly against Mitsuru’s back, calm, regular breath warming the nape of his neck as he exhaled. It was the same as it had been for years, though Mitsuru had never been able to calm his racing heart since that first night almost three years ago. One thing certainly had changed, though...
Mitsuru hadn’t been afraid of thunderstorms in years. One day, he might tell Kazuo, but until then, he was more than content to lay there in his arms and let the rain lull them to sleep.