[One-shot] Weekdays and Weekends; Rain and Coffee
title: Weekdays and Weekends; Rain and Coffee
pairing: Ryo/Shige (if you squint)
author:
where_wordsfail
rating: G
words: 569
summary: it started with rain and cemented itself with a name.
a/n: this starts sorta randomly in the middle, and is probably going to be a one-shot because i can't write fic to save my life. Happy Birthday misticloud !!! Really it is only you or binmusic that could possibly get me to write fic.
Wednesday, it rains and Kato Shigeaki had forgotten an umbrella.
Running home through the falling droplets, he takes refuge under a tree stretching over the wall next to the sidewalk.
My papers are all going to get soaked; I’ll probably have to rewrite them all over again!
Giggling girls walk by, laughing at some personal joke. Small children dash through the puddles, their brightly colored umbrellas bobbing through the street.
A substantial number of people weave up and down the street. So why he noticed, Shige still really didn’t know.
He is walking on the other side of the small street. Walking, with no umbrella, his hair plastered to his face, droplets dripping down thin strands and sliding down his face.
Shige simply stares, oblivious to those around him.
He was soaked, soaked clear to his skin, through his light-blue stripped dress shirt. Hands in pockets, dark jeans.
He’s the guy I saw at the park. Shige suddenly realizes. The guy continues walking, oblivious to an awkward college boy waiting out the rain beneath an old tree. Eventually, he turns the corner and disappears.
I wonder if he lives in the same apartment complex?
Ten minutes pass by before Shige decides to forgo his papers; he dashes toward the corner as well, sneakers kicking up splashes like the children he saw earlier.
Dripping wet himself, he doesn’t notice the large puddle in front of the elevator doors until he slips in it on his way inside the doors.
That evening, Shige stares fruitlessly at his papers, the wet ink blurring and bleeding and blending half the page; he does not think about the guy who walked through the rain like it was made to fall for him.
--
Friday, at noon, Shige is in a coffee house, waiting on a friend for a study session. A cup of black coffee sits next to him; anything else is too sweet. Shige made a point to get a booth, so the two of them could have plenty of room to lay out their books. He sits facing the door.
It is 12:15 when he walks through the door, the little bell announcing his presence, almost in surprise, a shriller trill.
He has a hat on this time, bright red but pulled low over his eyes. He has on a jean jacket, but wears black jeans, thumb carelessly hooped through a belt loop, his other hand holding a small shopping bag.
Looking around the coffee shop, his eyes settle on Shige. A look of recognition lights up his eyes, although his mouth remains unexpressive. He starts to walk over.
Shige panics.
Does he remember me from the park? Or maybe he noticed me watching him a few days ago in the rain. His mind burns with possibilities and Shige’s eyes dart back and forth, anxious and worried.
His footsteps keep coming, boots clinking on the hardwood floor. Shige looks up at the last moment possible mouth forming around words he will never know he could string together.
Because the guy walks past him, to the booth behind him, where someone calls out a familiar “Ryo-chaan~” in a voice too sickly sweet for a man.
“Shut up, Pi. No need to announce my presence to the world,” he says, his voice a pleasant tenor rumber, a little scratchy, a little pointed, hooked. It catches, a little, lodges itself in Shige’s mind.
Ryo-chan.
edit: apparently i have to continue this now...rofl
pairing: Ryo/Shige (if you squint)
author:
where_wordsfail
rating: G
words: 569
summary: it started with rain and cemented itself with a name.
a/n: this starts sorta randomly in the middle, and is probably going to be a one-shot because i can't write fic to save my life. Happy Birthday misticloud !!! Really it is only you or binmusic that could possibly get me to write fic.
Wednesday, it rains and Kato Shigeaki had forgotten an umbrella.
Running home through the falling droplets, he takes refuge under a tree stretching over the wall next to the sidewalk.
My papers are all going to get soaked; I’ll probably have to rewrite them all over again!
Giggling girls walk by, laughing at some personal joke. Small children dash through the puddles, their brightly colored umbrellas bobbing through the street.
A substantial number of people weave up and down the street. So why he noticed, Shige still really didn’t know.
He is walking on the other side of the small street. Walking, with no umbrella, his hair plastered to his face, droplets dripping down thin strands and sliding down his face.
Shige simply stares, oblivious to those around him.
He was soaked, soaked clear to his skin, through his light-blue stripped dress shirt. Hands in pockets, dark jeans.
He’s the guy I saw at the park. Shige suddenly realizes. The guy continues walking, oblivious to an awkward college boy waiting out the rain beneath an old tree. Eventually, he turns the corner and disappears.
I wonder if he lives in the same apartment complex?
Ten minutes pass by before Shige decides to forgo his papers; he dashes toward the corner as well, sneakers kicking up splashes like the children he saw earlier.
Dripping wet himself, he doesn’t notice the large puddle in front of the elevator doors until he slips in it on his way inside the doors.
That evening, Shige stares fruitlessly at his papers, the wet ink blurring and bleeding and blending half the page; he does not think about the guy who walked through the rain like it was made to fall for him.
--
Friday, at noon, Shige is in a coffee house, waiting on a friend for a study session. A cup of black coffee sits next to him; anything else is too sweet. Shige made a point to get a booth, so the two of them could have plenty of room to lay out their books. He sits facing the door.
It is 12:15 when he walks through the door, the little bell announcing his presence, almost in surprise, a shriller trill.
He has a hat on this time, bright red but pulled low over his eyes. He has on a jean jacket, but wears black jeans, thumb carelessly hooped through a belt loop, his other hand holding a small shopping bag.
Looking around the coffee shop, his eyes settle on Shige. A look of recognition lights up his eyes, although his mouth remains unexpressive. He starts to walk over.
Shige panics.
Does he remember me from the park? Or maybe he noticed me watching him a few days ago in the rain. His mind burns with possibilities and Shige’s eyes dart back and forth, anxious and worried.
His footsteps keep coming, boots clinking on the hardwood floor. Shige looks up at the last moment possible mouth forming around words he will never know he could string together.
Because the guy walks past him, to the booth behind him, where someone calls out a familiar “Ryo-chaan~” in a voice too sickly sweet for a man.
“Shut up, Pi. No need to announce my presence to the world,” he says, his voice a pleasant tenor rumber, a little scratchy, a little pointed, hooked. It catches, a little, lodges itself in Shige’s mind.
Ryo-chan.
edit: apparently i have to continue this now...rofl