“Jinyoung. We are going to go bathe under the rain. I’ll pick you up and twirl you around like they do in those sappy movies, and then we make out. We need no raincoats.”

Jinyoung manages not to crack a smile at the imagery. “I hate the rain,” he says instead, tingeing his tone with just the right kind of miserable as he trudges down the last three steps.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Chansik retorts smugly.

He sighs. Chansik had a point there.

So he goes out into the rain without any raincoat or umbrella, and frankly, without the good sense he thought he was born with. Chansik actually does pick him up and swings him in a circle before setting him down and kissing his sanity into oblivion.

They spend the night under layers of sweaters, socks and comforters. Jinyoung sneezes, the tip of his nose red and runny. Chansik hand him a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows bobbing up and down cheerfully, which he accepts gratefully. He’s bundled up like a polar bear but his toes are still freezing. The cocoa burns his tongue, but proves ultimately useless in lending some warmth to the rest of his body. Chansik scuttles over, diving under the covers and draping himself across Jinyoung’s chest. Jinyoung manages to save himself from a rather nasty cocoa burn, having placed the steaming cup on the night table mere moments before Chansik decides to snuggle with him. Chansik gives him a tired but happy eye smile, burying himself closer to Jinyoung, and Jinyoung rolls his eyes and drops a kiss on the tip of the younger boy’s nose. He wiggles his toes. It’s not that cold anymore.

#

It’s summer, the sun is shining and it’s way too hot. Jinyoung reminds himself that Chansik’s stuff are still scattered all over the floor of his room. He meant to clean it out, put it away, but not now. Later, maybe. When it’s not too hot.

Chansik wouldn’t complain either way.

#

“Remind me why we’re doing this again,” Jinyoung deadpans as he lets the tip of his fingers brush the top of Chansik’s shoulder, trailing lightly over the boy’s smooth arm before intertwining their fingers.

“Because I love watching the rain,” Chansik answers, making a sound that not unlike that of a very pleased and contented puppy before leaning against Jinyoung’s chest.

They’re both snuggled on the sofa that Chansik had insisted they move in front of the huge windows so they can watch the rain. Yes, it’s raining again, and Jinyoung wonders if Seoul still hasn’t received the entire amount of rain allotted to it for the year. He doesn’t understand why Chansik likes the rain so much. Whenever it rains, Chansik is sure to come bounding into the bedroom or kitchen or wherever Jinyoung is currently holed up in, eyes twinkling, smile blinding, and announcing Jinyoung, it’s raining, let’s go play in his I’m-adorable-and-you-can’t-resist-me voice.

Jinyoung hates the rain. It makes everything cold and gray and boring, and he’s too lazy to do anything else except let himself be dragged off to wherever Chansik wants o take him.

Their agenda changes a lot.

Sometimes they bathe in the rain, with Chansik raising his face to the sky, trying to catch raindrops in his mouth, then vigorously shaking his head so that the moisture from his hair flies straight into Jinyoung’s face.

Sometimes he runs and picks Jinyoung up, twirling him around in a circle, laughing with hair and rain in his eyes and Jinyoung plays along,  even flailing his arms and squealing (something he will never, never admit to, not even under the force of a thousand Sunwoos) before Chansik puts him down and they kiss.

Sometimes Chansik settles for grabbing and umbrella and tugging at Jinyoung’s wrist for a walk to the river, right up to the back where the flowers are, and this Jinyoung doesn’t mind. He actually thinks the flowers and Chansik (always, always Chansik) look cute.

And then there are days like this, when all Chansik want to do is cuddle together while they watch the raindrops race down the windows and listen to the muted melody of rain against the roof. Moments like this, with Chansik pressed close to him, all warm and content, makes Jinyoung appreciate the rain a bit.

Or maybe not, as he goes up to his room and discovers he had forgotten to close the windows, and about half of his paperwork has turned to a pile of mush, and Chansik rubs his back consolingly as he breathes into a paper bag.

#

There are little jars lining Jinyoung’s door. Some half-full, some half-empty, but that’s not the point. Jinyoung writes the date on a piece of paper and sticks it to the glass surface, then lines it up with the others. He wonders what Dongwoo would say if he sees them. He’d probably say his handwriting could look better with practice and Jinyoung smiles a bit.

#

“I hate you.”

“What did I do?”

Chansik throws a piece of paper in his face. Jinyoung looks at it, and then laughs. Chansik buries himself under the pillow, still grumbling unintelligible words and Jinyoung looks at the drawing again.

It’s a drawing he made months ago. It was raining (again) which explained his being a lazy . Chansik fell asleep to the sound of the rain. He looked so angelic. He picked up a piece of paper and started sketching. He put it away somewhere and almost forgot about it.

“I’ll have you know that my eyes do not look that uneven.”

Jinyoung laughs again.

#

Jinyoung feels tired. It’s too damn hot; he’s close to baking himself alive or simply bursting into flames. He rolls over on his stomach, tying to delude himself that it’s cool and he isn’t about to die from heat .  His AC hates him, it always chooses to breakdown at the most inopportune of times. He feels Chansik drape himself over his back, blowing cool air on his shoulders. He sits up and sighs. He left the window open.

#

It’s raining, and Jinyoung’s sick. But that doesn’t stop Chansik from barreling into the torrential downpour, and now Jinyoung is sitting with his feet propped up, watching Chansik do cartwheels on the grass.

“What.” He knows Chansik can’t hear him, thick reinforced glass separating them, but he hopes his bored expression is enough to get the point across. Chansik waves for him to come closer and so he does. He stands in front of Chansik who’s soaked to the bones, but looking happy as can be. Chansik grins, all teeth and puppy eyes, then cups both hands and blows a stream of air. Jinyoung steps back a bit before remembering there’s glass between them. Chansik rolls his eyes a little, and then raises a finger over the little cloud of condensation his breath made on the smooth surface. He draws a heart and smiles again.

“Sap,” Jinyoung comments, but he’s smiling.

He feels marginally better.

#

Jinyoung strolls over to the window and blows air onto the surface. He draws a heart. It looks lopsided and miserable.

He sighs and wipes it with his sleeve.

#

Jinyoung is half-lying on Chansik, gingers weaving through the brunet’s  locks, legs tangled up in odd angles, mouths pressed against each other, lips and tongue moving in perfect synchrony. Jinyoung lifts his hand and settles it on the back of Chansik’s head, angling his head slightly to the side for better access. He’s too involved in the kiss, too concentrated on feeling Chansik’s hair and cheeks and lips, too focused on feeling Chansik that he doesn’t notice when Chansik stops moving. He opens his eyes to meet the younger boy’s amused gaze, mirth dancing in the younger boy’s orbs, obviously directed at Jinyoung’s apparent absorption in what they were doing.

Jinyoung knows it’s useless to stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks, so he simply lowers his head.

“Don’t,” Chansik says before Jinyoung can save himself from further humiliation by burying himself in the other boy’s chest. “Look at me. Look only at me.”

And Jinyoung does. His eyes trace every angle and curve of Chansik’s face, this perfect, golden boy he has fallen in love with, fingers skittering over the younger’s eyes, one monolid and one di-eyelid, over the mole on Chansik’s right ear, over the one on his lips. He stares and stares, committing each perfect feature to memory, the younger’s face so completely engraved in his mind he sees it clearly even when his eyes are closed.

“I love you,” Chansik whispers, and the words fall like raindrops on parched land.

“I love you,” he whispers back and they kiss.

Outside, the rain falls on.

#

The blindfold is removed before Jinyoung decides to get even more annoyed, and he is into a brightly lit room complete with streamers and balloons and an especially loud Junghwan belting out ”Happy Birthday” opera style. He smiles. It’s the least he could do to thank his friends who had laboriously prepared for this bash (or maybe not, he swears he’s seen those streamers about two years ago and the cake still bears traces of being squashed against its box, as though Sunwoo was in a haste to get into the apartment before Jinyoung does) despite being told repeatedly not to do anything.

The song goes on and when it’s over Jinyoung trains his eyes on the cake and tries hard not to stare at Junghwan’s hand which somehow always, always finds its way around Sunwoo’s waist. He struggles with the façade, purposefully ignoring Dongwoo’s knowing and sympathetic look (which just makes Jinyoung feel more like swamp mush, not that he’d ever tell his friend.)

It’s when Junghwan shoves a piece of cake down Sunwoo’s throat, following it with a frosting-sticky kiss that his mask breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and he runs out before any of them could stop him, his mind burning with identical images, a playful Chansik smearing icing on his cheek and feeding him cake before dropping a kiss on his lips.

#

There is a shrill crack of glass against concrete, followed by another, and another.

Jinyoung picks up every single jar he’s accumulated over the rainy season, and smashes them on the floor. There’s something painfully satisfying about the sound. The broken glass tears his fingertips but he goes on with his rampage.

Each crash of glass against concrete echoes his own heart breaking.

After a while he goes upstairs and starts picking up random pieces of clothes and stuffed toys. Each has Chansik’s scent on them, each carries Chansik’s memory. He stuffs them into a box and decides to burn them the next day.

#

It’s raining again, and everything is gray and cold and boring. Jinyoung would like nothing better than to bury himself under a pile of blankets. Instead he picks up a black umbrella and goes out into the rain, willingly for once.

His feet tread a familiar path, though one he has not taken in quite some time. He goes p to the river, the one with the pretty white and yellow flowers that seem to nod in greeting as he passed. He walks up to the cross amidst the blossoms and kneels before it. He runs his fingers across the words Gong Chansik, carved into the rough wood.

He closes his eyes, feeling a pair of arms wrap across his chest, feeling a familiar voice whisper in his ear, feeling his Chansik all around him. He stand up and walks away, towards where the dark clouds are, towards where the rain is.

Whenever the rain is, there I will be, because the rain is where your memories are.“

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I obviously need help.

/flails/ Someone help me write decently.

ALSO, HAPPY BIRTHDAY GONG CHANSIK.

I'm sorry I killed you here. /sobs/

I love you though.