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Chihiro doesn’t really mind clichés.
As an avid reader of light novels, he thinks there’s a certain appeal to the familiarity. The normal male protagonist, the rooftop encounter, the mysterious transfer student—it’s all overdone before, but that doesn’t mean that each time can’t be special. It doesn’t mean that each time can’t be different and can’t have a different twist.
The twist in his life came in the form of Akashi Seijuurou.
Chihiro has never seen his life as a light novel—never as a story meant to be told and meant to be special. He’s fine with that. He’s fine with being the normal male protagonist living the banality of everyday life forever and never to have the special life changing rooftop encounter or meet the mysterious new student.
He never thought that first year Akashi Seijuurou would find him on the rooftop that day.
And here he is now wanting to laugh at this scene, but can’t really, not when he’s drenched in rain and cold to the bone because he forgot his umbrella and thought that he could make it home before it pours.
Nothing ever goes his way. Why is he still surprised?
He can’t really laugh when Akashi of all people is standing underneath a clear umbrella, intense and unreadable scarlet eyes that Chihiro hasn’t seen in three years staring straight at him.
What are you doing here? He wants to ask but doesn’t.
Are you heading to my place? He wonders, but stays silent still.
Akashi steps forward and even though he’s only five paces away, it feels like it’s taking forever for him to reach Chihiro. When he does, he lifts the umbrella to cover them both. There’s a short moment of silence shared under the drip-drop of rain hitting plastic and eyes locked before Akashi pulls Chihiro’s collar down with his free hand and kisses him.
It was short and fleeting, but when Akashi starts to pull back, something inside Chihiro bursts and he yanks Akashi forward so hard that the collision of their lips hurt and the umbrella tilts to the side. It eventually drops as Akashi circles his arm around Chihiro’s neck and one hand grasps at his hair.
How cliché this is, Chihiro thinks as he moves his lips, tongue licking Akashi’s hungrily. A kiss in the rain, really? Five years since their first encounter and Akashi is still able to tick plot clichés off the list. He has never been more aware of how his life is like some badly written light novel of the romantic genre. But he doesn’t really mind clichés.
He really doesn’t, not initially anyways, so he slips his tongue into Akashi’s mouth and draws shapes of nostalgia inside.
Akashi still tastes the same (bitter and sweet like high class wine or expensive champagne), smells the same (of strong musk and cool ocean breeze), feels the same (smooth like finely crafted china but not fragile as to break with one wrong touch) as if three years has never passed since the guy went aboard and lost contact.
A soft moan sounds in Akashi’s throat and Chihiro hums in approval, tongue relentlessly dancing in a rhythm that hasn’t sounded in so long.
It isn’t until he feels his lungs about to burst that they finally part, breath hot and heavy on each other’s face. Akashi’s face is flushed and lips wet and raw, practically inviting him to lunge forward for another round.
But Chihiro still has self-control and so wipes his mouth with the sleeves of his wet jacket.
“You’re wet,” he says.
“Why, yes I am,” Akashi says and pauses for a moment before picking up his umbrella and closes it because there's no point in using it now. Thank you for stating the obvious, Mayuzumi-san goes unspoken.
“Dry off at my place and have some tea?” Chihiro asks and walks past him.
“Yes, if you don’t mind, that would be nice.”
Footsteps follow behind and, “That would be really nice.”
Chihiro agrees.