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After two hours of nonstop studying, Isagi glanced out the library window and sighed.
“Damn, it’s really coming down.”
The rain was hammering against the glass in heavy, relentless sheets, blurring the view outside. The trees lining the street bent under the force of the wind, their branches swaying wildly as leaves were ripped away and sent spiraling through the air. Puddles were already forming along the sidewalks, rippling and splashing as raindrops struck their surfaces.
This caught Bachira’s attention. Until that moment, he had been slouched over the table, his head resting on his folded arms. He’d been alternating between lazily flipping through the pages of his book and using it as a makeshift pillow.
“Whoa! Look at all those leaves flying around,” Bachira said, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the library, earning a sharp glare from the woman sitting behind them. He leaned toward the window, pressing a hand against the glass to point at the swirling gusts of leaves outside.
Isagi wasn’t particularly interested in the leaves. Instead his gaze lingered on the gray sky reflected in the golden eyes staring outside the window —wide, curious, and a little too awake for someone who’d been half-asleep a minute ago.
“Yeah, fascinating,” Isagi muttered, half-smiling. He started gathering their books and shoving them into the backpacks, the zippers scraping softly in the quiet room.
“Why do you sound sarcastic?” Bachira asked, turning to face him with a sly smile, his head tilted slightly.
Isagi reached over to ruffle Bachira’s messy hair, a fond smile on his face.
He stood up, slinging the bags over his shoulder, his voice softening just a little. “Come on, the bus’ll be here in half an hour. Let’s go before you get lost in your leaf-watching.”
"Bye-bye," Bachira waved at the librarian, earning a second sharp glare, then grabbed Isagi's hand and dragged him toward the exit. Isagi hoped she could read the apology from his lips.
As soon as they stepped outside, Isagi opened the umbrella, his right hand wrapping around Bachira’s waist to pull him closer and keep him dry.
The sky was a pale gray, almost white, with heavy clouds scattered across it like ink blots, their edges blending into one another. The rain fell steadily, its rhythm unrelenting, tapping against the umbrella in a constant murmur.
Isagi felt oddly relaxed. The sound of the rain sliding off the umbrella, the warmth of Bachira pressing through his jacket, the wind brushing softly against his face. It was as though everything else in the world had faded away, only the two of them still there.
He just wanted to stay like that, no thoughts, eyes closed for a moment, lost in Bachira’s breath.
And then .
" Ah !" Bachira exclaimed, slipping from Isagi's grasp and crouching in a puddle.
"Meg- you’re gonna get soaked!" Isagi said, barely managing to keep his balance as Bachira crouched down, eyes wide and bright as he stared at his hands.
Isagi quickly stepped closer, holding the umbrella over Bachira, who was still kneeling in the water.
Bachira grinned up at him, excitement lighting up his face, as he stretched his arms forward to reveal what he was holding.
"Look, a little frog!"
Before Isagi could even react, the frog jumped from Bachira's hands, landing back in the puddle with a splash. Water sprayed up, hitting Bachira's face and soaking him further. The frog, unfazed, hopped away.
"Well, that’s... fun," Bachira said with a sigh, a dreamy look in his eyes, watching as the frog leaped away.
"You have a very unique idea of fun," Isagi shook his head, smiling.
“It’s fun to jump in puddles.” Bachira turned to him, lips pursed in a pout, eyes pleading without saying a word.
And what could Isagi do but close the umbrella, allowing the rain to pour over him, and let himself be swept along?
Bachira’s laughter rang through the air, carefree and infectious. Completely indifferent to the books in his bag, his soaked clothes, or anything else. His shoes splashed through the puddles, sending droplets in every direction, splashing Isagi as the rain poured down on him.
Isagi watched him, and although the sun was hidden behind the clouds, it felt as if it were shining right in front of him. Bright and warm. Blinding .
And what could Bachira do when Isagi gently cupped his face in his hands? He closed his eyes, his breath hitching in his chest, and let himself melt into the kiss, the world around them fading into nothing.
__
“I’m going to die” Bachira groaned dramatically, his voice rough and shaky as he lay in bed, looking completely miserable.
Isagi chuckled softly and ran a hand through his boyfriend’s sweaty hair. “You’re not dying, Meguru, you’ve just got a fever.”
Bachira sighed dramatically. “Guess I had it coming, huh?”
Isagi rolled his eyes, grabbed another blanket from the closet, and added it to the pile of covers over Bachira. “Well, you did go out in the rain without a jacket. So, yeah, kind of your fault.”
Bachira shot him a half-hearted glare and took a slow sip of the tea Isagi had brought him.
Isagi leaned down to kiss his forehead, his lips curling into a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be up and running in no time,” before getting up to start getting dressed for university.
__
Two days later, they're both in bed.
Wrapped up in five blankets, the nightstand cluttered with syrups, medicine bottles, empty tea cups, and half-drunk water bottles.
When Isagi came back from school earlier, pale and burning up, Bachira made room for him in bed, and they both fell asleep together.
After six hours of sleep, practically a coma, they decided to put a movie on TV.
Despite having slept the entire afternoon, while Isagi watches the movie, his boyfriend is glued to his side, his head resting on his shoulder, mouth open, with a stream of saliva dampening Isagi’s shirt.
And what’s he supposed to complain about?