Work Text:
Rain crashed down against the rolling hills, the grass heavy with rain droplets. Gondolas shut down from the sheer storm that had been much longer than anticipated. Soft whispers filled the air of the building, uttering rumors upon rumors of what was happening.
A woman leaned forward to a shuddering child, “Ooh, haven’t you heard that tale?”
Sitting a few paces from them, a figure perked up. Papers tapped lightly against their black pants as he raised his brow.
“It’s a stupid story,” A man seated by her scoffed, “Something for children.”
The figure huffed promptly, waving the papers as though they would magically complete themselves. Black strands fell neatly over his face, pale eyes hidden under his lashes. His fingers hooked over his tie, fixing it subtly as though admitting to how painfully hot it was inside of the building.
His likely-wife slapped the man’s arm, “Hush! Now, now. Roselle, did you know that whenever it rains-- a Hydro Dragon is crying?”
Roselle, a small girl sitting before the pair, frowned subtly, “How do we make it happy? I want it to stop raining!!” She complained, stomping her foot down.
Wriothesley furrowed his brow, shaking his head with a quiet sigh. Gripping the papers all the more tightly, he stood up. Boots thudding against the ground with every step he took. Sharp pale eyes flickering along the clusters of people collectively seeking shelter from the rain. He couldn’t wait any longer, really.
Mere hours ago he was face to face with a familiar person. The mere exchange of papers the last thing he could manage, as when he boarded the elevator to go up to the top portion of Fontaine city--- the downpour only seemed to worsen.
Wriothesley pushed the doors open, immediately he could see why many huddled in the buildings. The droplets cascaded down harshly, crackling thunder roaring overhead with every raindrop slamming harshly enough to the floor.
Shit.
Wriothesley shut the doors securely behind him, aware that he was absolutely going to get his documents wet. He folded them carefully and tucked them into a pocket that he prayed wouldn’t get soaked. The stone paths below him bearing miniature rivers-- or so he heard someone call it-- between each crack and dip. With every step he took, he could feel the droplets only growing harsher. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was rain or pure hail.
The curve of the Fontaine path began approaching, the tallest building looming overhead with the graceful Statue of the Seven gracing his presence. Lately, it gave off a different glow. It’s calm blue’s once a deep red, it’s warmth radiating enough to which he felt more energized than before.
Wriothesley’s gaze trailed along the buildings, dark strands sticking to his skin and rather heavy. They were always tall, though he couldn’t help but seek his own home. It would be better than the alternative of that stuffy station. Though as he continued towards the arch, he couldn’t help but freeze in his steps. The rain silencing in his ears as a familiar flash of silky hair disappeared behind the wall.
It was months before. He could remember how they would often meet discreetly, sharing tea in the privacy of his office and discussing different matters. Neuvillette. Wriothesley’s heart squeezed from that name alone.
Neuvillette, his love. Neuvillette, the most divine being he had ever come across. The one who brought a subtle smile to his face. He could never get tired of Neuvillette’s name, hell, the mere thought was enough to make him feel the warmth of his dear lover. Wriothesley could remember whispering in the dead of night. How it would always be a call of his name. He liked how it always seemed to be a sunny day when they were together, their secret affair growing more difficult to manage.
He didn’t mind.
Neuvillette’s lips tasted like his favorite brew of coffee every morning. He liked the way that their hands intertwined perfectly, as though they were made for each other.
Wriothesley shook his head, internally waving away thoughts as he neared the gate and-- ah. Gondola. Dejected, he pursed his lips with a troubled sigh. He only hoped it wasn’t a before-death situation where he was hallucinating. Death by rain didn’t sound like a good one, either. Wriothesley fixed his tie, realizing how it acted like a sponge at this rate. Turning his heel to face behind him, time practically froze.
Silvery strands flowed gracefully in the strong wind, his sharp oceanic gaze flickering over. His eyes were like droplets from the clearest of springs. Long eyelashes guarding them from the downpour, his lips tugged into a flat line.
“Wr--” The rain muddled Neuvillette’s words, and yet he could hear the weight of them. The way they were more high-pitched-- mere moments from shattering. “--sley…?”
Wriothesley broke into a practical sprint, running into Neuvillette’s arms despite how insanely out of character it seemed. It was like a reaction not brought on by himself. And yet, by the quiver of Neuvillette’s breath, he knew it was direly needed. He sunk into Neuvillette’s embrace, their arms wrapping tightly around each other as though the rain could sweep them away at any given moment.
“Neuvi,” Wriothesley rasped, his hand immediately running through silky locks as he thrust his face into the crook of his lover’s neck. Wriothesley knew the rain fucked with their scents, but even then-- cradling Neuvillette would be enough.
Neuvillette’s grip tightened on Wriothesley’s coat, his head shaking, “I want to go inside,” He whispered, “I fear I’ll break if I don’t.” His voice was soft, a chilling contrast to his typical demeanor. Wriothesley nodded firmly, grasping Neuvillette’s hand more firmly all while beckoning him down the streets. As soon as the door to his house was thrown open, Wriothesley hurried Neuvillette into the bedroom. He was glad they were close to his home in the first place. Wriothesley walked towards the closet, the warm light illuminating into the dark bedroom.
“Do you want to turn on the light?” Wriothesley inquired as he grabbed a towel and walked back into the room. Silence. “I’ll prepare some coffee for you,” He mumbled, stopping a few paces before his lover. Neuvillette’s gaze trailed up, his eyes glassy and tears rolling down his cheeks, “What in the world happened?” Wriothesley reached forward, delicately unfolding it onto Neuvillette’s hair.
Neuvillette shook his head firmly, “I didn’t intend to cry. I really didn’t.” He leaned forward into a sitting position, causing a dip in the bed, “I’ve been stressed. It’s nothing big, but this strain-- I feel I snapped too quickly.”
Wriothesley let out an exasperated sigh, he knew that this would happen sooner or later but he felt that not even having a civilized chat with the reason in question would be enough. Wriothesley rolled his thumbs over Neuvillette’s cheek, wiping away the tears that only seemed to be replaced with more. His elegant features disheveled from rain, Neuvillette’s hands reaching up and cautiously drying his hair. “Why?”
“Just work,” Neuvillette muttered, “Work that shouldn’t be stressing me out this badly but is anyway.”
“You always seem to overwork yourself. Do you think they’ll miss you if you’re gone for the rest of today?”
Neuvillette paused, “I doubt they won’t.”
The pair shared a moment of silence, the sound of rain roaring outside as Wriothesley rest his knee to the side of Neuvillette’s form. Cupping his lover’s cheek, he dipped down and pressed a ginger kiss to his lips. Tender and gentle as though Neuvillette could shatter at any given moment. Wriothesley pulled away in that instance, combing his fingers through Neuvillette’s hair. It was still wet. He reached down and grabbed the fallen towel, gently rubbing it through silvery locks.
“I’ll tell them that you’re unwell. It’s an awful downpour outside, I don’t need you catching a cold.” Wriothesley caught Neuvillette’s hand in his own, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of his hand, “Je t'aime.” He didn’t get much of a reply, but he didn’t mind that. Wriothesley reached for the lamp switch, turning it on. He didn’t want it too bright.
Wriothesley unfolded the blanket by his pillow, wrapping it around his lover. Neuvillette’s cheeks grew flushed, lips pursed, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head, “Don’t say that. I’ll be right back.”
The room was quiet and carefully lit. Everything was organized just to Neuvillette’s liking. That’s what Neuvillette liked about Wriothesley best. The subtle teasing nature he had, yet the ability to empathize with someone enough that he organized his own room to please Neuvillette’s senses. Clean. Neat. Easy on his eyes. Neuvillette buried himself in the sheets, they smelled like Wriothesley in the most indescribable way. Freshly brewed coffee, new book, everything that was endearing to him.
“Ah,” Wriothesley’s voice rang in the room once more as the scent of chamomile-lavender tea overtook the room, “The rain is letting up. That’s good.”
Neuvillette’s gaze flickered up, watching as his lover set a tray of food and tea on the nightstand. Neuvillette reached forward, grasping the handle to the teacup. It was warm.
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette finally began, “I want to thank you for this.” He fixed silvery strands behind his ear, bringing his lips to the rim. The soothing taste filled his senses, the numb sensation encasing his heart that lurched dangerously melting away with every gulp. The sound of rain gradually falling to a drizzle in comparison to the horrific storm.
“I take that as a sign you’re feeling better?” Wriothesley questioned as he sat down on the bed with Neuvillette, tilting his head slightly with curiosity. He was slightly aware of Neuvilette’s odd connection with the weather, though he would often let it slip his mind. His hand resting on the small of Neuvillette’s back.
Neuvillette only managed a subtle nod, “I am.” He pushed himself forward, capturing Wriothesley’s lips in an affectionate kiss. Their fingers intertwined as Wriothesley brought Neuvillette closer as though it was their last. Every break in the kiss following by yet another.
“Neuvi,” Wriothesley pulled away, dipping down and kissing his forehead, “Why don’t you rest?” Wordlessly, the pair sunk into each other’s arms, Neuvillette’s face buried in the crook of his lover’s neck. Every inhale bringing him closer, and every exhale reminding him that Neuvillette was present. Wriothesley’s fingers ran slowly through undone silvery locks, watching as they’d fall back on the bed with grace.
The rain began to clear, the sun’s rays slowly seeping back into the room.