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Schlatt is a warm person. He draws things in like the sun, his warmth makes people blossom to him like plants turn and unfurl to the sky. It is hard to not want to be settled in his warmth like a cat in the sun, to bask in his jokes and let his words flush over you. And he has a warm voice, not smooth and silky or nasally and sharp but warm and welcoming. There is something so tender about him, so very welcoming that being with him is like going home more than anything.
This warmth is why you are surprised by how Schlatt basks in the rain. Though he cracks jokes about rising water levels or droughts, you see the grin spread across his face and the way his eyes flick across the blanket of grey clouds. He makes up lies to get you caught in the rain with him, parking the car too far from the grocery store or crouching down on the pavement to tie his shoe as the rain beats down around him.
It is undeniably cute, and that is why you don't tell him you are afraid of lightning. It's not traumatic by any means, but the only thing that gets you through a strike hitting less than five seconds away is seeing him, water dripping in his hair and off his fine eyelashes and seeing the tops of his shirts (uncomfortably) damp. And though you would never consider Schlatt to be unobservant, he doesn't notice your little jumps at every boom of thunder or the way your leg shakes when it starts to rain harder than before.
It only becomes a problem on a day mid-summer.
It's hot. Beads of sweat form on your forehead and sweat rolls down your back. The sky is completely clear, giving the sun absolute full range to completely cause whatever havoc it wants. It doesn't seem like rain, but the weatherman had called for a storm, so Schlatt would be dammed if he didn't suggest sitting outside to eat for lunch.
"I just don't see why we have to eat outside when it's so fucking hot out," you complain, sitting across from Schlatt as he brings his glass of water to his lips. The ice cubes are already half-melted.
"You make a good point. You really do. But, counterargument: I really want to, and you don't ever say no to me," he grins at you, still over the brim of his glass. By the time he drinks it, they are almost completely gone.
"I'll drink to that," you grab your own glass of water and take a dizzyingly cold swig.
It does not rain during lunch, which is to both your disappointment and excitement. Thunderstorms truly had become a double-edged sword for you, all thanks to Schlatt being a garbage trash man who loves to stand in the rain like a deranged man.
You go about your day with Schlatt without thinking much at all about the weather. You don't notice the clouds slowly creeping into the saturated blue sky until it is night, and you look for the moon. Schlatt sways in his kitchen, nursing a cup of water. And you stand in his living room, on your tippy-toes to look through the blinds of his windows. You can't seem to find it at all.
"The moon is gone," you tell Schlatt.
"That seems very not true," he replies and chuckles at your growing concern over the moon.
"Come see for yourself," you say.
He walks over, and you side-step so he can get a good look at the completely empty sky.
"Oh, okay. No, it's just that clouds are covering it. It seems like they're sort of all over the sky like clouds normally do. Like, probably the rain that was supposed to happen," he sounds a little extra eager at the end part, and you falter just a little bit.
"Thanks for checking for me," you smile at him, and he leans down and plants a kiss on your lips.
Your stomach tumbles the rest of the night. It doesn't rain, but both you and Schlatt wait in a state of limbo for it, though for separate reasons. The night finishes up without even one drop until you finally slip under the comforter of Schlatt's bed.
You hear it slap against the walls and windows. It clinks and clatters and it feels like it's pushing in on you. Schlatt comes out of the bathroom, almost as if he was summoned.
"That must be rain, right?" He asks.
You nod drowsily from under the blankets. They smell just like Schlatt, and the warm scent makes butterflies pool in your stomach.
"Come here," you grab at him like a baby with a grin.
"Stop being a baby," he smiles down at you from his side of his bed as he plugs in his phone.
It is such a nice moment, until a bolt of lightning strikes. The butterflies turn into bees, and you feel your body tense up.
"Are you okay?" His smile fades from his face and his brows furrow all of a sudden. There is no happy, playful Schlatt to pull you from your fears and you feel a gnawing in your chest.
"I'm alright, yeah. Just wish you'd get into bed with me," you look up at him, trying your best to look sure. You don't want to ruin the night with a stupid fear.
And it passes for a second, Schlatt's face seems to relax, and then a boom of thunder shakes the room.
Your eyes start to burn and you decide that, at this point, trying to hide your anxiety would be completely futile. It's obvious you are upset, and Schlatt is looking upset too.
"I'm, well, maybe I'm afraid of lightning," you shakily say to him.
"Maybe? You're shaking like a fucking wet dog. Here, wait, one second."
He pulls back the blankets on the bed to lie next to you.
"I didn't know you were afraid of that shit, man, I'm sorry," he says to you. He sounds so genuine, and the warmth blooming in your stomach is almost enough to overcome the fear. Almost. "Can I do anything to help?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not. I normally don't hear it at night. I'm just really scared," you respond, your voice low to almost a whisper. Some of the words get caught in your throat as you speak them.
"Let me put on some music, okay? And then we can try to sleep," he smiles at you, softly, and pulls up Spotify on his phone. He puts on a Lo-fi playlist he probably used in a stream.
The music fills and expands in the room, almost covering the sound of the rain. It helps clear your mind, and you sink further into the bed.
"That's good. Thank you," you smile at him, still a little weak.
He sinks in the bed further too and lifts up his arm.
"Get in," he smiles at you, almost as if reassuring you.
You slide right underneath his arm, and you bury your face into his shirt. You hadn't realized you were crying, but when you lift up your head to look back up at Schlatt, you see a few wet spots.
"I'm sorry," you say.
"Don't apologize. Just adds character," he smiles again, wide but a little fake.
"No, not about the shirt. It's definitely had worse on it," you feel his chest move as he laughs, "I just mean, I know you love the rain. And I didn't want to kill the night, the mood, whatever."
"You didn't! Look, you're right underneath my arm, my girl snuggled up right next to me with some nice beats playing. I couldn't be happier," he smiles down at the top of your head and reaches up a hand to place in your hair.
You aren't scared anymore, as he runs his fingers against your scalp and you feel his breathing slow. You can even hear his heartbeat, thumping against his ribs. It reminds you of the rain, and you see what Schlatt loves so much about it.