for jessie

Zitao doesn’t usually slack off in class. He’s one of the best students in his year group and studies more than anyone else in the class – so it’s very rare to see him staring off into the distance, watching the raindrops slide down the windows lining the classroom wall.

Yifan is one of the people fortunate enough to catch him doing this.

Their seats are allocated by surname, so Yifan is stuck at the back of the classroom and has to crane his neck to see him, but it’s blatantly obvious that Zitao isn’t absorbing a word of what the teacher is saying. The beauty of the pouring rain entrances him, and the distant look in his eyes makes Yifan smile.

He’s surprised, for sure. Zitao usually enjoys Ancient History classes. Clearly, he enjoys nature so much more.

When the teacher turns around to write notes onto the whiteboard, Yifan’s nimble fingers slide under the desk, and he folds a small paper plane with the scrap notes he’s not really concentrating on. He makes sure nobody is watching him, before he throws the plane carefully, and watches as it lands on Zitao’s shoulder and falls into his lap.

Zitao frowns, and picks up the plane, noticing Yifan’s artistic folding style immediately. He makes sure the teacher isn’t watching, and glances out the window one last time, before he unfolds the paper and scans the words.

Notes. Just notes.

He turns around in his seat and meets Yifan’s wide eyes, and Yifan smiles at him.

Listen, he mouths, and Zitao blushes.

He turns back around and tries to concentrate on what the teacher is saying, but can’t help it when his mind wanders behind the glass concealing the rain and out into the wide open air.

“I didn’t expect it to rain today.”

“Neither did I.”

Yifan looks worried as he stares out at the torrential rain from under the shelter beside the school courtyard. He turns to Zitao, and finds he looks more excited than panicked, the risk of succumbing a dangerous flu apparently not bothering the younger.

“Should we wait until it stops?”

“I don’t think it’s going to stop.”

Yifan nudges Zitao gently, and his eyes tear from the rain.

“I don’t want us to walk home in this rain. It’s too heavy.”

“I don’t mind.”

Yifan sighs. “Well, I do.”

Zitao rolls his eyes. “I’ll just walk by myself again. See you tomorrow, Yifan.”

Zitao makes a move to walk out into the rain, but Yifan grabs him and quickly pulls him back.

“You can’t walk home alone!”

“Of course I can walk home alone!” Zitao whines. “Yifan, you don’t need to be so protective over me. I don’t mind the rain. I don’t care if my books get wet. I don’t want to wait for the rain to stop.”

The rain is loud against the uncovered pavement and the metal shelter above them, and the sound aggravates Zitao, making him pull away from Yifan roughly.

“Zitao—”

“If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll walk home alone.”

Before Yifan can protest, Zitao turns around and walks straight into the rain, and strides across the courtyard without a hint of urgency in his step. He’s soaked in seconds, and Yifan bites his lip, grumbling in frustration at the stubbornness of his friend.

He’s not meant to take off his blazer outside of school as a part of their uniform, but the air is cold and the rain is probably a lot colder, and Zitao’s almost out of sight. He quickly pulls off his blazer, and runs out into the freezing rain, stumbling after Zitao as fast as he can.

“Zitao!” he calls, “Zitao, wait!”

He catches up to his drenched friend and quickly lifts the blazer over his head, letting it drape over the younger’s shoulders protectively. Zitao looks up in surprise, and sees Yifan shivering as he adjusts the blazer, making sure it’s covering his head safely.

“Y-You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Yifan, put your blazer back on!”

Zitao tries to push the jacket off his head, but Yifan holds it firmly into place.

“I don’t want it!”

“I don’t want you to get sick, Zitao.”

The rain is blurring his sight, but Yifan manages to wrap his arms around Zitao’s shoulders and pull him close. He knows the younger isn’t really one for hugs and intimate touches, but he’s assured when Zitao doesn’t move away, and pulls him along so they can get to shelter as soon as possible.

“You’re so stupid,” Yifan mutters, “you and your stupid obsession with rain.”

“It’s not an obsession,” Zitao protests. Yifan shakes his head, and rests his chin on Zitao’s head, thankful his friend is warm enough to shield his bare limbs from the cold air.

Zitao still doesn’t want to stop and wait for the rain to stop despite them both being cold and wet, so they end up walking through the rain despite everything, arms around one another to share whatever warmth they have left. It gains them strange looks, but neither really care – Zitao is too absorbed in the dream-like scene, and Yifan is too focused on getting Zitao home without pneumonia.

They’re halfway up the street from their school when Zitao gently pulls Yifan’s blazer from his head and places it over the elder’s shoulders, noticing the goose bumps on his arms. Yifan looks down in surprise, and Zitao smiles at him softly, reaching up to push the wet hair from his friend’s forehead.

“You look so cold.”

Yifan shakes his head. “Zitao, your hair—”

“I don’t mind. Don’t you like the feeling of rain in your hair?”

“No.”

“Well, I do.”

Zitao loops his arms back around Yifan’s waist, and takes a moment to rest his head on the elder’s chest, listening for his heartbeat over the sounds of the pouring rain.

Zitao has always found the rain romantic. He doesn’t care whether he’s with a friend or a lover. He likes the feeling of the rain against his skin, the feeling of Yifan’s arms around him, how safe and warm he feels despite the bad weather.                                                                                                                           

Yifan feels his breath catch in his throat at the closeness, and he gently pushes Zitao’s head from his chest.

Zitao looks up, and Yifan turns away.

“Come on. We have to walk a little faster.”

Eventually Yifan adjusts to the cold of the rain and finds the torrent somewhat comforting. He’s starting to understand why Zitao looks so content, smiling through the raindrops, pulling his friend back every time he tries to walk under shelter.

“My mom is going to kill me if she sees me this wet.”

“You can come over to my house,” Zitao offers, “we’ll do our homework together.”

“If there’s anything left of our books, that is.”

Zitao laughs, and moves a little closer to Yifan, tightening his grip around the elder’s waist. They’ve completely discarded the sopping wet blazer, realising it’s only making them wetter, and Yifan’s given up on trying to stay dry. He knows he’s completely waterlogged and it’s pretty much impossible for him to get any wetter than what he already is, so he decides he’s better off walking at Zitao’s pace and enjoying the journey while it lasts.

It’s not so bad, really. He’s never walked in the rain before, and it’s just as fun as he hears it to be. They both have their arms around each other, clutching tightly to the wet material of their shirts and the damp skin underneath. The sound of the rain concealing the silence is calming, the feeling of their arms around one another is comforting. It’s somewhat like a dream, like a fantasy.

Quiet falls between the two, and Zitao nestles his head in the crook of Yifan’s neck. The raindrops drip from his nose and he shuts his eyes for just a few moments, absorbing Yifan’s warmth, losing himself in the downpour.

“You okay, Zitao?”

“Mm.”

Yifan gently reaches up to card the wet hair from Zitao’s forehead with a hand, despite the fact his fingers are shaking. He’s not cold, but for some strange reason, he’s nervous.

Yifan has no clue why he feels so anxious. He walks home with Zitao every day and they’ve hugged many times before. Maybe it’s the rain; maybe it’s the romantic aura of the whole ordeal. Either way, he’s battling himself in his head, trying to figure out whether he wants to push Zitao away or pull him closer.

“You’re so warm,” Zitao whispers, opening his eyes and staring out at the blurred sheets of rain falling before him. Yifan gulps, and stops walking.

Zitao lifts his head in confusion, and turns up to face the elder. Yifan is staring at him, eyes wide, and Zitao tilts his head.

“What is it?”

Yifan slowly pulls his arm from Zitao’s waist, and extends his hands to cup Zitao’s chin, instead. He steps forward, and Zitao leans back in shock.

“What are you—”

“Would it be really weird,” Yifan breathes, “if I kissed you right now?”

Zitao’s eyes fly wide open, and Yifan presses their foreheads together gently. He’s not sure how to react – so he laughs.

“Yeah,” Zitao responds, “because it’d be like kissing a wet slug.”

Yifan’s eyes crinkle up into a soft smile, and Zitao feels his heart stop in his chest. Suddenly, the rain surrounding Yifan’s face seems to freeze, and he can only see the elder’s twinkling eyes, the droplets hanging off his hair, his dangerously close lips.

He uses one hand to wipe the rain dripping off Zitao’s face, but his efforts are useless, because his wet hand only smears the droplets, and doesn’t dry him at all. Zitao laughs again, and Yifan can’t help but press forward and kiss his gentle smile.

Another heavy sheet of torrential rain seems to come pouring down, stronger than before, and both can feel themselves being pelted with the huge drops, but it only adds to the effect as they pull each other close, the cool rain calming the heat in their cheeks.

It’s relieving. It’s perfect. Zitao’s been waiting for this moment for much too long, and he couldn’t have asked for anything more.

When they finally pull away, the rain seems to slow down, and Yifan smiles softly at the sight of Zitao’s soaked hair, flattened by the rain.

“I like you,” he blurts. Zitao raises his eyebrows confidently despite the hammering heartbeat in his ears, and Yifan looks at his shoes.

“I—might like you, Zitao,” he repeats. “Even though you have a weird obsession with rain.”

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t romantic.”

Yifan smiles sheepishly, “it was.”

Zitao taps his chin and forces Yifan to look back up at him, tilting his head in curiosity. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you liked me for?”

“I said might—”

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me for two damn years, Yifan.”

Yifan doesn’t realise how red his cheeks are, believing the cool rain will settle the colour, but Zitao notices it immediately and laughs.

“God, you’re weird,” Yifan huffs, frustrated that Zitao is laughing when he’s battling his emotions inside of him. The trembling in his limbs subsides a little when Zitao stands on his toes, flings his arms around his shoulders and kisses him, hard.

“I might just love you, Yifan,” Zitao breathes, “and there might be people staring at us right now.”

Mortified, Yifan spins around to meet the eyes of the few strangers walking by, and he grabs Zitao by the collar and yanks him off into privacy, cursing under his breath. Yifan spends a good ten minutes kissing Zitao in an unsheltered alley – they both know the drenched homework in their backpacks isn’t going to be completed, anyway – and all of a sudden, the torrents of rain seem ever so insignificant placed against the torrents of their newfound love.

Zitao laughs all the way home.

:: a/n :: sry for the disappointment that was absolutely and completely unedited lmao but then again as a friend i am absolutely therefore my gifts for you will be absolutely . i hope you have a good birthday nonetheless. i love you jessie. stay strong. and maybe one day we'll walk in the rain together and mAKE OUT PASSIONATELY-- i mean, you and avery. ahaha. alyssa stop reading

(word count: 2003)