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The first thing Niragi heard when he woke up that morning was rain.
It hit the windows like fingertips drumming against glass — impatient, relentless, noisy. Everything just felt heavier as time passed and the rain went on, a breakdown of Mother Nature or whatever the fuck it was that sentimental people liked to romanticize about.
He groaned and rolled over. The empty half of the bed had already gone cold, which meant Karube must have been up and out of the apartment long before he woke up. Kuro was currently curling up beside him, tail twitching like she was dreaming about catching mice that didn't exist in the first place.
“Traitor,” he muttered, poking her side. She meowed in protest, flicked her ear, and promptly went back to sleep. Typical.
It took him longer than he wanted to actually get up. His right leg protested with every shift of his weight, a dull ache that settled deep in the bone. The cane leaned against the wall by the nightstand — a sleek, black, and annoyingly necessary thing that he couldn't live without. How he hated it simply didn't matter in this situation — not when the Borderland had left him with scars that never really stopped hurting, pain that lingering after the rest of the world started pretending it hadn't happened.
So he limped his way into the kitchen instead, watching the rain turn into a steady downpour. There was warm coffee in the pot — Karube's doing, obviously — and a note on the counter, written in that annoyingly neat handwriting.
“Heading to Lucid earlier than usual. Don't burn the apartment down. — K.”
“Rude,” Niragi sighed, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward anyway. The notes never bothered him as much as he pretended they did.
He then spent most of the morning drifting — half working, half staring out the window — before giving up entirely and deciding to show up at the bar.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
By the time he got to Lucid, the rain had softened into a drizzle, thin mist rising off the asphalt. Karube was already behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, polishing glasses like the world's most cinematic bartender. The sight would've been laughable if it wasn't so annoyingly him — calm, steady, a little too good at looking like he had everything figured out.
“Shouldn't you be... I don't know, making cocktails or pretending to be busy?” Niragi drawled as he leaned on the bar, cane resting against the stool beside him.
The bartender looked up with a grin then, something that always seemed to land between I missed you and you're being ridiculous again. “Shouldn't you be resting that leg?”
“How about you stop acting like my mom?”
Karube snorted, shaking his head as he set the glass down. “Last I checked, your mom didn't make you breakfast or bail your ass out of fights.”
“Yeah, well,” Niragi smirked, “you didn't make me breakfast either.”
“Because you were still asleep when I left.” The older man's tone softened as he leaned forward on the counter, towel still in hand. “Did you eat yet?”
He hesitated for a beat too long at that question. “… Maybe.”
Karube raised an eyebrow. “So the answer is a no, then.”
“Don't start.”
“Relax,” His boyfriend chuckled at how flustered he was. “Just making sure you don't starve. There's leftover curry from last night. Sit tight while I go grab them.”
Niragi watched Karube disappeared behind the kitchen door with a sigh, muttering quietly about overprotective bartenders but chose not to argue about it. Beside, sitting here felt nicer than being out in the rain anyway, so he digressed.
It didn't take long for the bartender to return with a steaming bowl of curry and a small grin that could've thawed the whole icy mountain on its own.
“Eat,” he said simply, then settling down on a stool beside him instead of going back to the counter like he was supposed to.
Niragi eyed the food warily, then looked up at his annoyingly perfect boyfriend with a frown on his face. “… You trying to fatten me up or what?”
“Well, actually, I'm trying to make sure you don't pass out later because you forgot to eat.”
“Charming.”
Karube leaned in, resting his arm along the back of his stool.“You'll thank me later.”
“Doubt it.” But Niragi picked up the spoon nonetheless, muttering something that almost sounded like thanks under his breath.
The curry was good — better, maybe, with the kind of warmth that seeped through his chest with each bite he took. His leg still ached like hell, but the blond didn't mention nor make a big deal out of it. Instead, he just rested his hand lightly against his back and rubbed small circles there — a comforting motion of someone who refused to let him fall apart.
“Hurts, huh?” Karube asked softly when Niragi winced and shifted his weight. “Need help with it?”
“I'll be alright.” He sighed, jaw clenching. “… Rain's just being dramatic again.”
“Yeah,” His boyfriend murmured, thumb brushing gently along his shoulder. “Always is.”
They sat in silence for a while afterward, watching the storm ease into a light patter, rain streaking down the window like veins pulsing faintly with the wind. Niragi finished up his food and put it aside, which seemed to please Karube immensely.
“You don't have to come here when it rains like this.” The bartender hummed, pressing a brief kiss to his temple. “I know the pain bothers you, and you don't have to pretend it's nothing either.”
“I'm not pretending.”
“You are.” Another kiss, this time to his cheek. “But that's fine. I'll pretend with you for a while.”
“You're just so full of shit.” Niragi huffed in amusement, posture finally loosening as he leaned back with a glint in his eyes. “Grab me a drink, barkeep.”
Karube grinned, standing to his full height. “What'll it be?”
“Cape Cod.”
“Vodka cranberry? Since when do you drink anything with cranberry in the name?”
“Since now. Don't question it.”
Karube chuckled as he reached for the bottles. “Sweet stuff doesn't suit you.”
“Guess I'm evolving.”
“Tragic day for humanity,” the blond muttered, seemingly exasperated, though he still mixed the drink anyway — a red cocktail that looked like a drop of ruby caught up in sunlight. “Here you go, gentleman.”
Niragi lifted the glass, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You're lucky I'm in too much pain to throw this at your head.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Karube said, leaning back against the bar. “You love me too much for that anyway.”
“Arrogant bastard.” He muttered, taking a sip and grimacing slightly at the sweetness of his drink. “Still too sweet, but… it's not bad.”
“High praise.”
“Don't get cocky.” Niragi tugged lightly at his boyfriend's wrist, and the other man obliged, stepping between his knees with the same warmth that always filled the space between them. “This is just a one time thing.”
“The drink might be,” Karube shrugged, voice dipping into that teasing lilt, “but I doubt it's the same for us.”
He couldn't help the eye rolls that came at those words, even when his lips curled up into a smirk anyway. “You really don't know when to shut up, do you?”
“Never been my strong suit.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Niragi muttered, looking up as his boyfriend leaned in close enough that he could feel his breath against his jaw — the faint scent of coffee and spice that always lingered on the bartender's clothes after his shift ended. The rain hummed against the window, rhythmic and calm, like the whole world had gone quiet just for them — carving out a little moment where they could be peaceful instead of feeling the pains that carried over from the lives they had before this.
“Still too sweet?” Karube asked, thumb smoothing over his cheek. His heart skipped a beat at how gentle that touch was.
“… Flirty much?” He grumbled, feeling flustered yet still caved in anyway. “Are you asking for the drink or yourself?”
“Either.”
Niragi chuckled, breathless and heady. “Both.”
“Guess you'll have to get used to it.”
“Not a chance.” He protested, but when Karube tilted his head slightly, he didn't pull back — didn't even think about it. Their lips met halfway — soft at first, then deeper, a slow exchange that tasted faintly of cranberry and something electric.
“You're warm,” Niragi mumbled as they broke apart and his boyfriend rested his forehead against his own. “What's up with you being warm all the time, hmm?”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.”
“It is when you're smug about it.”
Karube chuckled, pressing one more kiss against his jaw before stepping back to grab the glass. “Finish your drink, I'll close up early. We can head home, watch something stupid, and let Kuro steal your blanket again.”
“She's your cat,” he argued, though his mouth twitched into a smirk anyway.
“Uh-huh. Tell her that.”
Niragi rolled his eyes, took another sip, and exhaled through his nose. The ache in his leg was still there, but it didn't feel unbearable anymore — not with his boyfriend standing there, warm and steady and familiar by his side.
“… You're still full of shit,” he said eventually.
Karube's grin softened into something quieter. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”
“Don't push your luck.” Niragi chided while hiding his smile behind the rim of his glass — the faint tang of cranberry on his tongue and the warmth of something far sweeter settling in his soul.
(Because when the rain ended, they would go back home together like they always did.)