With autumn’s gradual descent upon the lands comes grey clouds on the skies and frequent downpours. The rain patters against the windowpane; Minseok absentmindedly observes the raindrops as they trickle down the glass, some of them so fast that he wonders if they think it’s a contest. 

Outside, an owl hoots. Inside, the fire in the hearth crackles. Soft footfalls and murmuring announce a couple of servants in the hallway as they pass his study. Tan is purring contentedly in his lap. His knee aches. 

His knee always aches more when it rains. The doctor said a lot of his patients with similar injuries experienced the same; that it was normal. Minseok supposes he should be delighted he can sort of predict the weather. It’s a nifty little trick at social functions.

Not that he has been to a lot of those since.

Behind him, the floor creaks as someone approaches. None of the servants would enter unannounced, so it can only be Zitao. He sidles up next to Minseok by the window, a hand falling onto Minseok’s shoulder to gently rub at the exposed skin with a thumb. 

“Are you brooding?” he asks, with a hint of teasing.

Minseok huffs. “Hardly. I am enjoying the weather.”

“I suppose the best way to enjoy tonight’s weather is from inside,” Zitao says, distinctly amused. “Anything specific on your mind as you stare longingly out the window?”

Minseok is stuck trying to map out the outline of his book with no idea of how to proceed; he used to love the rain, but nowadays it makes him jittery; he feels like he lost his purpose in life after the injury, which is an unnerving notion that he doesn’t like entertaining. 

“No,” Minseok murmurs, because he hates bothering Zitao with these concerns. When he has had the time to sort through them himself, he will come to Zitao, but for now, he can deal with them alone. 

“All right,” says Zitao easily. “I have an idea.”

Minseok tilts his head backwards to look up at Zitao with an arched eyebrow. “Do I have grounds for suspicion?”

“No,” Zitao trills. “Up, up – come with me.”

Minseok shakes his head in bemusement, but gets to his feet after coaxing Tan off his lap. Zitao automatically reaches past him for the walking cane and then he leads the way downstairs, all the way to the front door. 

“Where are we going?” Minseok asks, head tilted as he listens to the roar of the rain from the other side of the door. 

“I changed my mind,” Zitao says. He shoves the door open, and the murmur of rain becomes nearly deafening. “We’ll enjoy the weather from outside.”

“You hate the cold,” Minseok points out, but puts up no fight as Zitao draws him across the threshold. Raindrops pitter-patter on the gravel, and Zitao easily takes the remaining few steps to leave the shelter of the awning and greet the rain with, quite literally, open arms. 

He is grinning, and Minseok, weak as ever when it comes to anything Zitao, moves to stand next to him as the rain wastes no time drenching his clothes. Zitao grabs his hand and throws out their arms, and Minseok is helpless to the laughter bursting from his chest. 

The rain is cold, but Zitao’s pure enjoyment as he does little spins in the rain makes it all worth it. They might both catch pneumonia from staying outside while soaked to the bone, yet Minseok can’t find it in himself to care. He has been through worse than a fever and bedrest. 

“I demand hot cocoa when we go back inside,” Minseok says, voice slightly raised to not be drowned out by the downpour. His bangs stick to his forehead and his clothes might possibly be ruined, but he feels no urge to get back inside. 

“Of course,” Zitao says. “Before or after dinner? I came to tell you dinner was ready, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Minseok repeats, huffing. “After dinner then. Sojin will get huffy if we leave the food to get cold, and we’ll need more time to get a change of clothes.”

“What, you don’t fancy looking like a drowned mouse as we take our dinner?” Zitao teases.

“I care naught how I look, but I would prefer to not also feel like a drowned mouse,” drawls Minseok, carefully stepping around Zitao. It puts him near a puddle of rainwater, and Zitao has no time to react before Minseok jumps into it and splashes dirty water all over Zitao.

Zitao sputters, but he is laughing, and Minseok joins in as he sidesteps Zitao’s subsequent splash attack. 

“No,” Zitao calls, setting off after him when Minseok starts towards a barrel of water not too far away. “Don’t you dare!”

Rain splashes under his feet as Minseok makes a beeline towards it. He snatches one of the upturned buckets at the foot of the barrel and dips the bucket underneath the water to quickly fill it. 

Then Zitao is there, grasping for the bucket before Minseok can upend it over his head. Minseok laughs and lets him have it, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught that he knows is coming before it hits him. He sputters, making sure to not accidentally swallow any of the water. Trying to wipe it away from his face hardly helps when he’s drenched all over.

Zitao tries to help him, giggling, but Minseok just grabs his hand and presses a wet kiss to the back of it.

The gold band adorning Zitao’s ring finger reminds him that although the injury may have ended one duty, he still has another as Zitao’s husband. 

That is enough. 

~

There is a medal in his study, framed and hung proudly on the wall by his desk.

Some days, it reminds him of screams from his squadmates and unseeing eyes; the stench of blood and puke; the stony expressions of the enemy; glimpses of Zitao’s tears. 

Other days, it reminds him of Zitao’s smiles; the laughter and playfulness of his squadmates; the pride of having earned that medal despite the pain he had to endure.

In a small town far from the war, Minseok is gradually getting used to life as a retired soldier.

Used a generator to give me letters for this challenge. Letters (and words) in question: T(own), W(ar), O(wl). Had to ask my friends for help, so they came up with the words, whoo. Except War. That's all on me.

I couldn't quite fit everything I wanted into the fic, so here are some details just to clear things up (and generally tell you about the history I lacked words to explore): Minseok served in the war in a squad that was ambushed during battle; a few escaped, but the rest were killed or captured, among them Minseok. Already wounded (worst of all a broken leg), he was tortured for information (that he chiefly simply didn't have, and some that he didn't give). He was rescued after a couple of days in captivity, but the ordeal, and the broken leg, sent him home with honours and a medal and a small yearly stipend. The leg was treated too late and wounded in such a way that the fracture never really healed the way it should, so now it aches and he sometimes collapses because of it, thus he has a walking cane. I wanted to end the main scene with Minseok needing the cane because his knee was aching again, and the running around hadn't helped, but alas. Words. Smh.

(Also, Zitao and Minseok were together before Minseok went to war. Zitao was distraught to see him go, but did not try to stop him. He didn't know that Minseok had been captured until he got word from the hospital, and thus was distressed and feared the worst because he hadn't gotten all the details. Nowadays he knows how best to help Minseok with the remnants of trauma that still haunts him, as well as his injury.)

Uhhh. Thanks for reading! Sorry for the mess, hah