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Jacob was distantly aware of the rain. Each drop hit the pond with a faint splash, sending ripples of algae careening across its surface. A blanket of dark clouds rolled lazily across the sky, blotting out the relentless, ever-scorching Florida sun. Gooseflesh prickled along the back of Jacob’s neck as a breeze passed him by, raising his hairs and sending an involuntary shudder through his frame. Jacob didn’t feel the cold, though – it was more of an afterthought, like reading a book without feeling the weight of its words. He just watched the rain fall with his feet dangling over the dock’s edge, toeing circles into the murky water as his clothes grew wetter by the second.
Distantly, a peal of thunder rumbled across the sky. “Yeah, I hear you,” Jacob muttered to no one in particular. “I feel like shit too.”
Behind him, the dock creaked faintly, as if complaining about an additional weight. “Watch out for nails,” Jacob muttered. If the intruder heeded his warning, he couldn’t tell – the characteristic fwip of sandals snapping against heels remained unhindered as their footsteps grew closer. Jacob didn’t bother looking up.
“I’ve always been fond of the rain,” Millard mused, pausing beside Jacob. Ah. So that’s who decided to crash his little pity party. Jacob didn’t have the energy to reply – nor did he really want to – so he kept his eyes on the water. He half-expected Millard to barrel through his silence with a remark about catching a cold. Ever since the First Battle of Devil’s Acre, a lecture was always on the horizon. But it grew even worse after the Second. He hadn’t saved peculiardom once, oh no. He’d saved it twice. He was a hero, to be remembered through the ages. And now Miss Peregrine and Miss Cuckoo won’t stop breathing down his goddamn neck.
Jacob knew he deserved it – he’d snuck out of the loop to visit home, after all – but he was so sick of being treated like- like-
A frog hopped from a grassy bank into the water, splashing and sinking like a pebble. Jacob sighed. Christ. Where was he, again?
“Do you like the rain, Jacob?” asked Millard. The question sunk into Jacob’s head and dribbled out of his ears.
“Sorry- huh?”
Millard sat down beside Jacob, slipping off his sandals and crossing his legs. “Do you like the rain?”
“Um…sure.” Jacob swallowed. “I guess.” He took a moment to study the boy beside him. Surprisingly, Millard had raided his closet: a frayed, faded Pink Floyd t-shirt splattered with bleach holes hung loosely from his shoulders, clashing with his rolled-up corduroy trousers. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
Millard hummed. “I’ll answer that question if you answer mine.”
“But I already did!”
“You said ‘sure, I guess.’ That’s not a very sound answer, is it?”
Jacob groaned, rolling his eyes and nudging Millard’s side with his elbow. “Cut it out, smartass.”
“Cut what out?” replied Millard, the lilt of his voice betraying an amused smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I am seriously considering shoving you into this pond. Have fun being gator food.”
“Have fun being bird food.”
“...Touché.”
Millard laughed. Jacob felt compelled to join in, but his vocal chords were rusted-over with emotion, unable to mimic the sound. He instead swallowed around the lump growing in his throat. A dragonfly darted across the pond, dodging and weaving around the darts of water falling from the sky.
“I like the rain sometimes,” admitted Jacob. “Usually when I’m inside. I don’t like getting wet.”
“Most people don't.” The peeling prism design of Millard’s shirt began to pick itself off, flecks of color fluttering into his lap. “Personally, I can’t bring myself to mind so much.”
“That’s because you’re a nudist. Walking around with soggy clothes sucks.”
The shoulders of Millard’s shirt hiked up into a shrug. “Fair point. But I feel that the rain is…ah, how should I put this? It’s…often taken for granted.” Millard’s knee knocked against Jacob’s. “A lot of things are.”
Warmth bloomed through Jacob’s leg at Millard’s touch. Jacob finally felt a surge of cold – if only so his body could relish the contrast. “...Oh.”
The pair fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the rain as the palms lining the yard bent and swayed to the inaudible music of the storm. A bird called from a nearby perch, and a twittering reply echoed back to it. Millard sighed as the rain picked up, dropping one of his feet to toe at the water alongside Jacob. Their ankles brushed as the pond dipped to match Millard’s shape, bits of green swirling about the absence of space like a snowglobe in reverse.
“...The others are worried, you know. You should’ve seen Emma and Bronwyn panic when the Bird let it slip that you’d snuck out. I’m surprised they didn’t accidentally knock the house down and torch the remains.”
Jacob sighed. “I just had to get away for a bit. I needed some time to just-”
“Disappear?” finished Millard. The rain began to bead on his skin, floating in midair as though frozen in time. “I understand.” His hand brushed against Jacob’s. Their fingers tangled together.
“...How did you know where to find me?” asked Jacob, shifting closer to Millard, chasing the warmth that spread up his arm.
“I didn’t. We all split up. I was assigned here because we didn’t want to attract the attention of your parents.”
Jacob snorted. “Ah, yes. Corduroy and Pink Floyd. How stealthy.”
Millard kicked some water at Jacob, splattering his jeans with algae. It hadn’t made much of a difference – both of them were already soaked. In fact, the rain was beginning to streak down Millard’s face, outlining the curve of his cheek; the angle of his jaw. Jacob couldn’t help but stare. It was strange – Jacob often found himself tricked by Millard’s optical illusion, mistaking his invisibility for intangibility. But it’s extraordinary how tangible a person can feel when their lips are pressed against your skin. “...Sorry.”
Millard pulled away from Jacob’s cheek, chuckling awkwardly. “What for? I kissed you, not the other way around.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you m-”
Jacob reached out and cupped Millard’s cheeks in his hands, tugging him into a proper kiss. His body exploded with warmth, wracking him with shivers. There weren’t any sparks, but that was okay. He didn’t need a firework show to know that he wanted to press closer, to melt into Millard and lose himself – to disappear.
When they parted, Jacob deliriously wondered if Millard had closed his eyes.
“...Ah,” breathed Millard.
“Yeah,” came Jacob’s reply.
“Yeah,” Millard echoed. “Yeah.” He was still close – Jacob could feel the heat of his breath and hear his anxious swallow. “...I thought it’d be warmer.”
“What?”
“Your shirt. I took it because I figured the weather in Florida would be sunny and warm. All of my regular clothes would’ve had me sweating buckets within the hour.” His laugh ghosted across the skin of Jacob’s cheek as his head fell onto his shoulder. Millard’s hair – curly, Jacob was surprised to note – tickled Jacob’s neck. “Guess I should leave the predictions to Horace.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it eventually. Practice makes perfect.”
“Now who’s the smartass?”
Jacob hummed. “...I dunno. Do I get a hint?”
Millard snorted, giving him a gentle shove. “You’re insufferable. Completely, absolutely insufferable. I can’t believe I just kissed you.”
“I can’t believe I just got kissed.”
“Do you want to ‘get kissed’ again?”
Jacob swallowed. “...Yeah.” He tilted his head, allowing his eyes to slide closed in anticipation. But instead of leaning closer, Millard shifted away, his warmth leaving Jacob shivering as he rose to his feet.
“Alright, then. You can have another once we’re back in the loop. Deal?” Millard asked, slipping his feet into his sandals. After a moment of expectant silence, he cleared his throat. “...I’m offering you a hand up.”
For the first time in a while, Jacob’s lips curled into a small smile. He took Millard’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Deal.”