[Frerard] He danced in the rain, while the other sat sullenly on the ground beneath a weeping willow. Curiosity lulled each to one another, but what really sealed the friendship was the crashing of...
Hair plastered to his face, the long, straggly strands hanging limply in his face. Skin dampened with the rain, hands concealed behind fingerless gloves, he tilted his head back and let the rain wash across his skin. Cold, spine-tingling, it landed on his neck and ran down his collarbone before sinking into the depths of his clothing.
Shrugging out of the sweat jacket (supporting the Misfits) he threw it onto the grass, jumping forward. Black Doc Martens stained with mud, but he hardly noticed; there was only the rain, his eyelids drooping closed over his soulful green eyes as he twirled.
Far off in the distance, another young boy watched; concealed beneath the long and forgiving branches of a weeping willow, he hugged his knees, seeking solace in the warmth his own body gave off, and the fact that he wasn't dripping wet. He watched the boy with mild interest. He was close enough that he could see details; the glint of a belt buckle, a jacket sprawled haphazardly across the ground, boots clinging to his feet. He cocked his head to the side slightly, biting his lip, watching.
A drop of water slowly fell onto the boy who was hidden, causing him to start; shuddering and flipping the sky off fruitlessly, he turned back to watch the boy as he danced in the rain. Black hair overtop pale skin, complimenting him tremendously. The boy was, honestly, beautiful.
The boy stopped, as if sensing being watched. A smile spread across his face at the boy who was naÃ¯ve enough as to not enjoy the rain. Taking steps forward, his stride soon became an excited jog, always ready and eager to pull an unsuspecting person into the rain with him.
"Hey," he heard himself say, voice soft and lyrical. The boy looked up at him, squinting his eyes. The dancer was still in the rain; getting drenched, no doubt, just standing there.
Eyes narrowing still, he responded with a simple, "Hi." No need to be overly inviting, even if this mysterious boy was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life.
Truly puzzled, the black-haired boy's lips pulled into a frown of confusion. "Why aren't you enjoying the rain?" he asked with that deep, gentle, calming voice.
Face twisting around the thought of rain, he responded, "It's wet."
A bark of laughter escaped the boy's lips, pale pink lips pulling back into a wide grin that truly brought out his cheekbones. Teeth glinted; shoulders shook as he giggled with sheer mirth. "So it is."
Quiet stillness before, unexpectedly, his wet hand reached out, grabbed the sitting boy by his forearm, and yanked him up. He gave out a startled yelp; trying to shove the boy off of him, but was unsuccessful. He was dragged into the rain, the dancing boy's laughter enough to hypnotize him to do anything.
Rain splashed across his head, leaking down his hairline before finally finding undisturbed skin and running down that. A tear of rain ran from his eye, the streak so visible against his face. A hand rose, wiping angrily at his face, lettering flashing at the dancing boy strangely. He caught what they said; "Halloween."
"Nice tats," he complimented. The boy looked up, slightly shocked, and then a grin pulled his face.
"Thanks," he mumbled, abashed for some unknown reason. Hands shoved into his jean pockets, eyes avoiding the boy. That was, until he blurted out the thing he was avoiding saying; "You're beautiful."
He blinked, but it wasn't the reaction the sheepish boy had expected. Eyes flitted to meet his face, and was surprised to find that he was actually smiling, looking happy with the comment, instead of repulsed as he had originally anticipated.
"You're quite beautiful yourself," he whispered, coming closer. Hands slowly slid from his pockets, down to his sides; he looked into the face he had been studying so quietly from afar. It was so much nicer up close, pale, undisturbed skin stretching kindly across his skull. A round, boyish yet not chubby face, inviting, full lips.
Then, as unexpectedly as their meeting, their lips crashed together. Hands reached out, ready to grip each other's hips, holding tightly, possessively. Mouths worked against one another, kind and engaging. Both begged for more, and they each granted it; mouths parted to grant one another entrance, the chaste kiss deepening, tongues exploring one another.
Pulling away for breath, rain spilled in between the two, the liquid that fell from the sky almost forgotten. The boy from the willow lowered his head and pressed it softly against the other's chest.
"I've always wanted to have my first kiss in the rain."
A hand rose to hold his head, fingers tangling in his hair. "I'm glad I was the lucky one," he whispered, another smile gracing his features as the water slowly dripped across the two.