Work Text:
One look outside your office window tells you a storm will happen any minute now. Most of your co-workers have left already, leaving you still finishing up the last bits of the project. At this quiet time of the day, when you are left to your own thoughts, you miss him so much.
You look at the photo of you and Oikawa on your desk. He has his arms around you, flashing his signature smile. You look so happy with him too. That photo is from a summer excursion a year ago. That summer, when you visited Argentina, the two of you spent all night counting stars and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear.
It’s a far-off memory now, and remembering that moment only makes you miss Oikawa even more. Argentina is exactly 12 hours behind Japan. Time conversion is so easy, but the distance in-between is not quite as simple.
You look at your phone and see the 6:27 flash across the screen. Oikawa should be up by now. Usually, he has to wake up early for practice and usually at this time he’ll send you a message. But the few times you refresh your phone tells you nothing but the time and weather. You text him a ‘good morning’ and with a sigh, you decide to pack your bags for the day. The project can continue tomorrow.
Is he okay? Did he oversleep? Or maybe he’s sick? You roll your eyes at those thoughts. Why are you even getting worked up about that? It’s just one day he missed. You’re independent, not clingy. There are days you forget to text him in the morning too. You push those messy thoughts aside as you walk to the main entrance of the office building. Even before exiting the building, you can already hear the loud curtain of rain slamming onto the pavement.
Usually downpours like this won’t last so long, so you decide to stay under the overhang and wait for the rain to die down a little before rushing out. Meanwhile, you watch the people walking about. Some of them are couples, tightly linking arms as they huddle under the same umbrella. Even if you have an umbrella, there’s no one to hold hands or link arms with you. There is, but he’s practically across the ocean, countless time-zones away.
There you go with the lamenting, you chide yourself. You check your phone one more time for good measure. Still nothing. Not left on read. Just nothing. What’s more, the rain doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.
Well, you can’t keep waiting here. Some rain isn’t going to hurt you, and thankfully your bag is weather-resistant, so your electronics will be safe in their compartments. You lift the bag above your head and prepare to make a mad dash for the subway station.
A few steps into the rain already has your shoulder drenched and shoes sloshing with water miserably. What are the odds he actually appears with an umbrella or something? You snort to yourself at the ridiculous thought. What sort of daydream is that?
But it would be nice to feel his warmth again.
“Wait! Wait up! Oh my god, you run so fast!”
You’ll recognize that voice anywhere. No matter how warped it can get over the telephone line, how fake it sounds across bad signals. In whispers or in shouts, of course you know that sound. Like a melody of a song that is engraved across your heart, it’s Oikawa Tooru.
You see his figure in the distance running towards you with an umbrella over his pretty head. His other arm is dragging a suitcase that’s drenched by the rain. Never in your dreams, could you possibly imagine this, so how? It just doesn’t make any rational sense. There’s no good reason for Oikawa to be here, right now, it just doesn’t make sense.
It doesn’t need to make sense.
You drop your bag and take the final steps to meet him halfway, throwing your arms around him while ignoring everything else. He returns the embrace you have so craved and desperately dreamed of. Nights wrapped in blankets imagining they were him. Days busying yourself so you won’t think of him, only to see his twinkling eyes in your dreams.
“Tooru, I missed you so much,” you cry out, tightening your arms around him, not caring if your wet clothes are getting his clothes damp. All you want is to hold on and never let go. Oikawa runs a soothing hand down your back. “You didn’t respond and I was thinking the worst. I...I missed you so much, so much.”
The pitter-patter of the rain on the umbrella is like soft drums. It’s dry, quiet, and private. Oikawa cups your face so he can take a good look at the one he so dearly missed as well. The trip’s worth it. You’re worth it.
You let him bring you closer for a soft kiss. He smells like the rain. Like 23 hours on a plane. Like the taxi. Oikawa smells and feels like love.
“I missed you too, I’m here now.”