On the Fourth day of Fic-mas
On the fourth day of Fic-mas Dria wrote about wet Nagayan for the hell of it (and because the idea had been sitting in her head for months and she felt like dedicating something to the very lovely analineblue).
Title: Shelter
Pairing: Tuti/Nagayan - Nagayan’s pov
Requested by: no one but it’s for analineblue
Summary: It’s a rainy day, a rare day when Nagayama doesn’t have to be anywhere and he can enjoy the anonymity an umbrella over his head gives him. Utter heart-warming fluff ♥ Oh and I know the first sentence starts with "and", don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten to copy & paste a paragraph, it’s meant to start like that!
And he’s sheltered in a private world, a world cut off by walls of grey water, carpeted with wet concrete and shrouded in cloud. A world scented with wet grass and wetter metal with a soundtrack made up of car wheels rushing through puddles and the endless patter of rain hitting taught, raised umbrellas. Colour sucked free of this world and sent somewhere else so that everything is left drab and speckled and heavy.
But despite the all-pervading chill and the way he can’t avoid the splashes that leap from the road to the pavement as the puddles try to avoid the cars, even so… Takashi likes the rain.
Maybe he likes it today more than usual because he doesn’t have anywhere to be, doesn’t have to rush from one location to another, from office to rehearsal hall to a meeting with a reporter. Doesn’t have a dozen scripts to look at or a page of clothing designs to clean up or three songs to finish arranging. There are no pressures, no expectations, no demands for his attention, his presence, his smile.
The puddles have drenched the bottom six inches of his trousers and the moisture is trying to climb still higher up towards his knees. His shoes kick a spray of water droplets ahead of him with every step, trying valiantly to not let the rain in and failing every so slightly. The air is warm despite the grey weather, warm enough that his shirt clings to his back as though there is a strip of Velcro stuck to his spine holding the two together. His hair is lying flat at the moment, sticking to the back of his neck because he wasn’t quick enough with the umbrella, but when it dries it’ll fluff up and he doesn’t need a mirror to know that the locks round his ears are already curling in on themselves in a way that isn’t usually allowed.
He doesn’t look like an idol, not even a rain drenched one because even when caught in a rainstorm idols have flawless (waterproof) make up to hide any unevenness in skin tone or texture and hair that hangs in their eyes just so and clothes that turn slightly transparent when wet so that the cloth clings to the toned body beneath. They don’t have red noses because they’ve been sneezing a lot today or fluffy hair or clothes that simply look drab when wet rather than sexy. They don’t hold their own umbrellas over their heads or get splashed by cars that veer too close to the pavement and when that does happen they certainly don’t utter a few of the more inventive curses they’ve picked up off their partner who is inconveniently the same sex as themselves and then inconsistently follow it up with a laugh directed at themselves.
Perhaps he looks normal. Wet but busy just like everyone else he passes. Even though he isn’t busy and has nowhere particular to go and could have taken the train back to his apartment except for the fact that he couldn’t be bothered and wanted to walk in the rain.
He likes the rain.
He’d have chosen to walk even if he’d forgotten his umbrella that morning and in all honesty, he had forgotten. But Tuti hadn’t and when Takashi had been about to leave the office he’d reached into his bag for a mint and found the plastic wrapped brolly instead. So he was walking in the rain beneath an umbrella that didn’t belong to him, still wet anyway because the wind was beginning to pick up and the falling water was trying to throw itself at him rather than at the ground. But he had an umbrella, an excuse for being out in the storm and a barrier that kept him from looking at the other partially sheltered people just as it stopped them from seeing him.
It was strange how the simple act of holding the thing over your head made you so blind and invisible. The other people on the pavement were reduced to nothing more than many pairs of quickly passing feet. The cars only existed because they splashed water at everyone and the buildings on the other side had no windows or doors unless someone came hurrying out of one. Having an umbrella somehow reduced the whole world down to its component parts and all that mattered was you.
You and your umbrella.
Takashi liked the idea of being invisible because it meant that there was no one to think him weird for the way he was carrying Tuti’s umbrella. It was over his head, naturally, but the centre veered away to one side allowing the rain to paint an increasingly blurred picture on Takashi’s left arm. The spokes drifted above his head, clearing the flattened tufts of hair with six inches of air to spare almost as though he was making room for someone taller than himself.
A fertile imagination was almost a prerequisite for the type of career Takashi was cultivating and today, in the rain, he could give it free rein to play. Filling in the familiar details was easy, substituting empty air and splashes of rain for a solid body and an uneven grin. Pretending that there was someone else there, someone tall and warm and loud even in the muted silence of the rain-drenched world. Someone who would walk too close to him, share the umbrella-space to the point of monopolising it, laugh at whatever he chose to tease about and waggle his eyebrows suggestively at the end.
Thinking like that could put colour back into even the most monotone moment, inject some life into an otherwise bland or numbed sensation and paint rainbows across even the most storm-cloud covered sky. That was why he made room under the umbrella for an absent Tuti and why he had one hand resting against the pocket in his bag that held his phone so that if Tuti should message him, he’d know about it instantly and be able to react all the sooner.
Of course he couldn’t live like this, not every day of every week. But there were moments, rain drenched moments of quiet and solitude, spaces on busy trains when no one was paying him any attention as he grinned at some daft message he’d been sent three days ago, pauses in rehearsals when he’d look over and catch a grin just before it turned away, all times when actual distances didn’t matter, only the perceived space. It wasn’t the sex or the late-night conversations or even the whispered, barely heard emotional confessions made at inopportune moments like in a lift when the doors were about to open, it was something else that he barely noticed except when it wasn’t there.
It all sounded like crazy talk and it was probably why one or two of Takashi’s acquaintances were convinced he was losing his mind. Takashi, on the other hand, just knew he was in love.
End
No I’ve never walked in the rain pretending I’m sharing my umbrella with someone else. I said it was going to be fluffy didn’t I? ^__^;
Okay, so now I’m off to North Wales in about... err... an hour XD I hope everyone enjoyed their Christmas day, whatever you got up to and whoever you spent it with. Me, I’m over the moon that my lost and very lonely Eiji now has an Oishi of his own (and can now refrain from pinching my other Eiji’s Oishi as other Eiji was beginning to get a bit cross about sharing and other Oishi was getting very tired) and I finally have a copy of Good Omens to call my own. And Howl’s Moving Castle on DVD ♥
Tomorrow there will be fic, but it won’t appear until I get home from Wales and when it does, it’ll be the first of the three fics I’ve got lined up for butterfly_eli. Quite how she’s ended up with so many, I’m not sure... oh well, half-naked Gomoto tomorrow!
Title: Shelter
Pairing: Tuti/Nagayan - Nagayan’s pov
Requested by: no one but it’s for analineblue
Summary: It’s a rainy day, a rare day when Nagayama doesn’t have to be anywhere and he can enjoy the anonymity an umbrella over his head gives him. Utter heart-warming fluff ♥ Oh and I know the first sentence starts with "and", don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten to copy & paste a paragraph, it’s meant to start like that!
And he’s sheltered in a private world, a world cut off by walls of grey water, carpeted with wet concrete and shrouded in cloud. A world scented with wet grass and wetter metal with a soundtrack made up of car wheels rushing through puddles and the endless patter of rain hitting taught, raised umbrellas. Colour sucked free of this world and sent somewhere else so that everything is left drab and speckled and heavy.
But despite the all-pervading chill and the way he can’t avoid the splashes that leap from the road to the pavement as the puddles try to avoid the cars, even so… Takashi likes the rain.
Maybe he likes it today more than usual because he doesn’t have anywhere to be, doesn’t have to rush from one location to another, from office to rehearsal hall to a meeting with a reporter. Doesn’t have a dozen scripts to look at or a page of clothing designs to clean up or three songs to finish arranging. There are no pressures, no expectations, no demands for his attention, his presence, his smile.
The puddles have drenched the bottom six inches of his trousers and the moisture is trying to climb still higher up towards his knees. His shoes kick a spray of water droplets ahead of him with every step, trying valiantly to not let the rain in and failing every so slightly. The air is warm despite the grey weather, warm enough that his shirt clings to his back as though there is a strip of Velcro stuck to his spine holding the two together. His hair is lying flat at the moment, sticking to the back of his neck because he wasn’t quick enough with the umbrella, but when it dries it’ll fluff up and he doesn’t need a mirror to know that the locks round his ears are already curling in on themselves in a way that isn’t usually allowed.
He doesn’t look like an idol, not even a rain drenched one because even when caught in a rainstorm idols have flawless (waterproof) make up to hide any unevenness in skin tone or texture and hair that hangs in their eyes just so and clothes that turn slightly transparent when wet so that the cloth clings to the toned body beneath. They don’t have red noses because they’ve been sneezing a lot today or fluffy hair or clothes that simply look drab when wet rather than sexy. They don’t hold their own umbrellas over their heads or get splashed by cars that veer too close to the pavement and when that does happen they certainly don’t utter a few of the more inventive curses they’ve picked up off their partner who is inconveniently the same sex as themselves and then inconsistently follow it up with a laugh directed at themselves.
Perhaps he looks normal. Wet but busy just like everyone else he passes. Even though he isn’t busy and has nowhere particular to go and could have taken the train back to his apartment except for the fact that he couldn’t be bothered and wanted to walk in the rain.
He likes the rain.
He’d have chosen to walk even if he’d forgotten his umbrella that morning and in all honesty, he had forgotten. But Tuti hadn’t and when Takashi had been about to leave the office he’d reached into his bag for a mint and found the plastic wrapped brolly instead. So he was walking in the rain beneath an umbrella that didn’t belong to him, still wet anyway because the wind was beginning to pick up and the falling water was trying to throw itself at him rather than at the ground. But he had an umbrella, an excuse for being out in the storm and a barrier that kept him from looking at the other partially sheltered people just as it stopped them from seeing him.
It was strange how the simple act of holding the thing over your head made you so blind and invisible. The other people on the pavement were reduced to nothing more than many pairs of quickly passing feet. The cars only existed because they splashed water at everyone and the buildings on the other side had no windows or doors unless someone came hurrying out of one. Having an umbrella somehow reduced the whole world down to its component parts and all that mattered was you.
You and your umbrella.
Takashi liked the idea of being invisible because it meant that there was no one to think him weird for the way he was carrying Tuti’s umbrella. It was over his head, naturally, but the centre veered away to one side allowing the rain to paint an increasingly blurred picture on Takashi’s left arm. The spokes drifted above his head, clearing the flattened tufts of hair with six inches of air to spare almost as though he was making room for someone taller than himself.
A fertile imagination was almost a prerequisite for the type of career Takashi was cultivating and today, in the rain, he could give it free rein to play. Filling in the familiar details was easy, substituting empty air and splashes of rain for a solid body and an uneven grin. Pretending that there was someone else there, someone tall and warm and loud even in the muted silence of the rain-drenched world. Someone who would walk too close to him, share the umbrella-space to the point of monopolising it, laugh at whatever he chose to tease about and waggle his eyebrows suggestively at the end.
Thinking like that could put colour back into even the most monotone moment, inject some life into an otherwise bland or numbed sensation and paint rainbows across even the most storm-cloud covered sky. That was why he made room under the umbrella for an absent Tuti and why he had one hand resting against the pocket in his bag that held his phone so that if Tuti should message him, he’d know about it instantly and be able to react all the sooner.
Of course he couldn’t live like this, not every day of every week. But there were moments, rain drenched moments of quiet and solitude, spaces on busy trains when no one was paying him any attention as he grinned at some daft message he’d been sent three days ago, pauses in rehearsals when he’d look over and catch a grin just before it turned away, all times when actual distances didn’t matter, only the perceived space. It wasn’t the sex or the late-night conversations or even the whispered, barely heard emotional confessions made at inopportune moments like in a lift when the doors were about to open, it was something else that he barely noticed except when it wasn’t there.
It all sounded like crazy talk and it was probably why one or two of Takashi’s acquaintances were convinced he was losing his mind. Takashi, on the other hand, just knew he was in love.
End
No I’ve never walked in the rain pretending I’m sharing my umbrella with someone else. I said it was going to be fluffy didn’t I? ^__^;
Okay, so now I’m off to North Wales in about... err... an hour XD I hope everyone enjoyed their Christmas day, whatever you got up to and whoever you spent it with. Me, I’m over the moon that my lost and very lonely Eiji now has an Oishi of his own (and can now refrain from pinching my other Eiji’s Oishi as other Eiji was beginning to get a bit cross about sharing and other Oishi was getting very tired) and I finally have a copy of Good Omens to call my own. And Howl’s Moving Castle on DVD ♥
Tomorrow there will be fic, but it won’t appear until I get home from Wales and when it does, it’ll be the first of the three fics I’ve got lined up for butterfly_eli. Quite how she’s ended up with so many, I’m not sure... oh well, half-naked Gomoto tomorrow!