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Yunho awakes with a start. In the safety of his room, under the comfort of his covers, the quiet of night is disrupted by intermittent claps of unmistakable thunder. He takes in the world around him for a moment as he wakes up. Laying with an arm and a leg draped across his body is Yeosang, his soft breathy snores drawing Yunho to the present.
He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. He’s warm and cozy and he has an angel in his arms, what more could he ask for? Taking some deep breaths, he tries to will that brain-empty feeling he gets before sleep overtakes him. The rain is a pleasant white noise. Even though he’s finding it hard to be sleepy, he’s not all that upset about getting a chance to enjoy the sound of a storm and cuddles to boot.
It’s the lightning that piques his interest. When it flashes, it’s bright enough he can see it through his eyelids. Nearly subconsciously, he starts counting. When he doesn’t reach 30 before thunder sounds, he opens his eyes again. That’s a close storm. Curiosity calls to him, and oh how he’s failing to resist it.
He moves Yeosang’s arm gently off of his chest and slips his legs out from where they’re tangled together, leaving only the wrinkles of the covers to remember where he was. He tiptoes out into the living room.
Yunho draws the curtains and ties the strings to hold them open, revealing the storm outside. The windblown rain batters the windows of the glass doors. But inside, dry and safe, Yunho gives a small squeal of happiness at the dramatic show of nature. Slowly, as if in a trance, he sinks down to the floor, sitting back with his legs tucked up into his chest to watch the storm in awe.
The wind shakes the trees violently, and through the glass he can hear the leaves trembling like shivering teeth. The branches are whipped around but hold strong to the test of power.
Rain hammers down, thrown from the clouds in buckets. It spatters on the ground, crafting a low misty haze; fog-like and mysterious. Cloud-to-cloud lightning zips across the sky every now and then.
He hears a noise behind him and nearly jumps out of his skin. Drawn out of their room by the sound of the storm or by the lack of Yunho cuddling him, Yeosang, pouty and fluffy-looking with a big blanket wrapped around him, shuffles across the room. He flops down next to Yunho in front of the big glass doors and puts half the blanket across his shoulders. Yunho hadn’t even realized he was cold. He scoots closer and adjusts the blanket around himself. Yeosang holds onto his arm and puts his head on his shoulder, yawning. Yunho rests their heads against each other.
The bloody battle of nature against itself continues. With a gruesome cracking noise, a well sized branch on a tree across the way snaps. Both Yunho and Yeosang gasp softly. It hangs on by mere sinews, dangling helplessly until the wind takes pity on it and finishes the job, letting it drop to the ground. Lightning highlights the grim scene. The onslaught of rain weighs it down, keeping it in its resting place.
Thunder booms deep in the sky, rumbling through his body in a way that sets off his most primitive urge to hide. He loves the feeling. Yeosang clings a little tighter to his arm, but smiles at Yunho when he glances down to check on him. Yunho intertwines their fingers.
The storm reaches a point where the lightning strikes so often that the roar of thunder gets no break. The rain’s beat picks up, faster and harder and heavier. It tiptoes along the edge of hail. Yunho can’t quite see the difference, but he can hear it in how the rain hits the concrete in sharper, less muddled sounds.
He pulls the blanket up higher around his and Yeosang’s shoulders, feeling the chill of the storm leak through the seals of the doorframe. He could go for a warm drink, tea or cocoa or even coffee so he can stay up to the end of the storm, but is far too enraptured by nature to put the thought into action.
The rain gives way into hail, droplets morphing into hardened orbs of ice. They pelt the ground like a battery. The longer it goes on, the more the hail begins to collect along the edges and corners of the house, but none are big enough to stay frozen. The white center of each ball is molded out of shape by the falling of more hail overtop, leaving only slush.
The power of the storm begins to dwindle. The hail’s anger melts back into rain, the lightning no longer has the energy to reach the ground, the thunder's voice grows hoarse. The trees stop shaking in fear, and the haze along the ground disappears entirely.
As the clouds begin to lighten and separate from each other, the night sky peeks at the disheveled aftermath of the storm. She blinks her pretty, and many, eyes at the world, and at the two watching her. Or rather, the one watching her. Yeosang fell back asleep on Yunho’s shoulder at some point. Yunho isn’t sure when.
It doesn’t matter anyways. The rain has faded into a drizzle, light and boring. The adrenaline of the storm wears out of him, and he finds himself fighting heavy eyelids. Carefully, he takes the blanket off the two of them, folding it as best he can and setting it aside. Even more carefully, he shifts them both around so he can pick Yeosang up.
Slow and steady, he stands up off the floor with Yeosang in his arms. Yeosang’s head droops and falls against his shoulder, cheek squished against Yunho’s arm. Yunho’s heart tightens with fondness.
He takes them both back to bed, setting Yeosang down gently and then climbing in right next to him. Feeling sleepiness settle in his bones after the excitement of the night, he doesn’t linger on the marvel of what he experienced. He’ll talk all about it with Yeosang in the morning, when the sun is ready to greet the world.