Nothing is too simple

It's real

.o.

Monday morning bloomed bleary and dark, imminent storm clouds told of a rainstorm headed downtown in the next two hours. There was a probability of heavy downpours with steady rain the rest of the morning and afternoon. Haruto wears his overcoat and brings an umbrella. For some odd reason, he felt like treating the office to something sweet and delicious once they all arrived, so he bought coffees and cinnabons, then made the coffee pot for fresh refills. Haruto had been unusually late in arriving to work than he typically was, but still earlier than everyone else. He’s spent most of his morning fielding phone calls of people he’s been waiting to talk to since last week, letting the weekend pass by.

Now he was waiting for a phone call from an opposing attorney on a case, but he almost began feeling like he had to step outside for some fresh air. He had taken off his jacket hours ago, had loosened the tie and rolled back his cuffs to his elbows. Haruto wandered around the outer office area, away from his cubicle office, stepping up to the huge picture window that looked out onto the park he would’ve been seated at in the crack of dawn this morning. He had stopped going when Mino had stopped going and he had no one to sit and chat with.

As another car passed, and pedestrians crossed his view, the space cleared to show someone was sitting on the exact bench Mino would’ve been at.

Haruto had been swiping a hand over his face, scratching his chin, his other hand settled on his hip and goes still, body gripping tight with excitement, because he’s been let down so many other times before. However this time the feeling is weird, but he has this weird intuition. He grabs his umbrella from the coat rack, turning to Dara to tell her to answer his phone - please, pretty, pretty please - when it rings. He doesn’t stick around to even hear the question she asks so he can answer.

Crossing over the threshold, he stands in the entryway in order to pop open his umbrella then shuffles to the curb to look both ways before he crosses the street. He plasters a smile on his face, ready to tease Mino when he blinks fast to realize the face isn’t familiar...and it’s about fifty years too young. Still, though, it’s almost as if he’s traveled back in time to see a younger version of Mino, but the eyes are a darker chocolate. They aren’t looking at him, right now. Now they are raised to the sky, watching the gray clouds crack open and rain down tiny droplets of cool liquid.

Haruto stops dead in his tracks, swallowing hard as he’s unsure what to say, what to do or how to move. “You’re getting drenched.” The guy seems old enough to stay out of the rain, but Haruto can’t help but feel a bit captivated by someone who isn’t afraid of a bit of water.

“It’s raining.” As the neck cranes back, the face tilts upward to let the droplets cascade down his brow, cheeks and jawline. Several have soaked through his heavy and soft bangs, others run down the exposed elongation of his neck muscles and tendons.

Haruto swears he sees pure joy - like there’s a small need to stick out a tongue to drink the falling rain. He’s never been able to watch a person - another guy - this closely or without inhibitions. His chest heaves with excursion but ends up being because he senses his body’s reaction to instant attraction. He hurries over, taking a seat on the bench he's usually on. He makes sure the guy is covered along with him. He turns a bit to face the guy, noticing the bowed chin to chest and the averted gaze and head to the right; the tight grip of the strong, pale hands on the edge of the bench look frightening. Haruto opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted.

“Are you Haruto?”

Haruto chokes on his answer, mouth agape slightly with stunned shock. “I am. Why do you - ?”

“I’m sorry.” The drenched head finally swivels to face Haruto. “ - Mino won’t be here for a long while.”

Haruto remembers to close his mouth as he catches a flash of gorgeous chocolate eyes again, staring directly at him, and the wettest, longest and most beautiful-looking eyelashes on a man he’s ever seen.
Droplets shimmy down a reddening face, pouty lips beginning to shiver from the freezing cold wind, as the guy scurries upright and darts back into the rain.