Touching the Storm.
Typically.
Judai knew that rain typically brought three things: lightning, thunder, and Johan.
Whenever it would rain, whether it be a drizzle or a downpour, Johan would show up outside Judai’s dorm, his clothes drenched and blue hair hanging in his eyes, and ask for Judai to go play with him. And typically, the day after, he’d show up on Judai’s porch yet again and ask the brunette if he’d be sick with him.
Knowing that Johan, bubbling with exhilaration, would be there in five minutes or less, Judai threw off his paint-splattered-around-the-dorm sweatpants and traded them for some off-white jeans and his jacket.
Typically, Johan didn’t knock before entering. He would just burst in, which was usually unbearably humiliating on Judai’s part. Last weekend, Johan walked in on Judai watching cartoons in his underwear. The embarrassment faded, though, when Johan let his own pants fall to his knees, plopped beside Judai, and exclaimed, “I absolutely adore this show!”
Luckily for both parties involved, Judai had pants on this time. Johan exchanged his contagious smile for an overly serious look. His eyes locked on Judai’s and he nodded. Judai also nodded, grabbed Johan’s hand, and the two promptly skipped out of the dorm.
In the area of forest to the left of the Slifer Red dorms, there was rusted old swing set that had probably been sitting there for at least a decade, unused, until two teenagers who will never grow up found it and dubbed it as their rainspot. Typically, this swing set was only to be used during a storm, but exceptions of various degrees were frequently made.
“I call the right one this time,” Johan announced, suddenly making a mad dash for the swing set.
“Bitch, no,” Judai chirped, running to catch up with his counterpart. The swamp-like ground sloshed beneath his boots. One minute, he’s a hop, skip, and a jump away from catching up with Johan, and the next, Judai is covered from toe to mid-thigh in the murky mess. Johan turns around, examining Judai, and winds up falling in the mud from laughing so hard.
“At… least… at least… we … match,” he manages to spit out between bouts of laughter.
The fact that they are covered in wet, dirt and soaked to the bone does not even faze the two teenagers. The fact that the ground is unstable does not stop them from running. Judai arrives first, trying to stop way too short on the way too wet ground and eventually wound up crashing against the decaying swing set pole. Johan catches up and sees a single line of blood trailing down Judai’s face. He runs his glacial fingers along Judai’s cheek and grins. “We’ll just let the rain wash that off,” he chuckles, looking up at the sinister skies and shaking some hair out of his face.
Due to his bloody nose and muddy pants, Johan allows Judai the privilege of the right swing, which was higher up off the ground and didn’t squeak as much when in motion, this time. The duo intertwined their fingers and began to pump their legs. Gaining momentum, they swung until they almost touched the storm.
“I can fly, mommy!” Judai squeals.
“I don’t believe you,” Johan shouts, jumping off the swing and running towards the open field, giggling crazily all the while. Judai follows suit, tackling the bluenette to the ground and pinning his wrists into the squishy earth. “Say I can fly,” Judai demands, wishing desperately for an extra set of arms to tickle the other until he broke down.
Rather than admit defeat, Johan lifts his head to press his own near-blue lips against Judai’s. “Apology accepted,” Judai mews, rolling off Johan to lie beside him. Wrapping his arms around the skeleton of the other, he can feel his teeth begin to chatter. He then proceeds to peel off his red jacket and place it over the pair to serve in the place of a blanket.
After a few minutes, the sun peaks out from behind the menacing, gray clouds. The pair groan and force themselves to sit up. Johan offers his hand out to Judai and pulls the younger boy up, returning the jacket. Hand-in-hand, in the heat of the sunshine, the boys trek back through the woods to the dorms.
Whenever it would rain, whether it be a drizzle or a downpour, Johan would show up outside Judai’s dorm, his clothes drenched and blue hair hanging in his eyes, and ask for Judai to go play with him. And typically, the day after, he’d show up on Judai’s porch yet again and ask the brunette if he’d be sick with him.
Knowing that Johan, bubbling with exhilaration, would be there in five minutes or less, Judai threw off his paint-splattered-around-the-dorm sweatpants and traded them for some off-white jeans and his jacket.
Typically, Johan didn’t knock before entering. He would just burst in, which was usually unbearably humiliating on Judai’s part. Last weekend, Johan walked in on Judai watching cartoons in his underwear. The embarrassment faded, though, when Johan let his own pants fall to his knees, plopped beside Judai, and exclaimed, “I absolutely adore this show!”
Luckily for both parties involved, Judai had pants on this time. Johan exchanged his contagious smile for an overly serious look. His eyes locked on Judai’s and he nodded. Judai also nodded, grabbed Johan’s hand, and the two promptly skipped out of the dorm.
In the area of forest to the left of the Slifer Red dorms, there was rusted old swing set that had probably been sitting there for at least a decade, unused, until two teenagers who will never grow up found it and dubbed it as their rainspot. Typically, this swing set was only to be used during a storm, but exceptions of various degrees were frequently made.
“I call the right one this time,” Johan announced, suddenly making a mad dash for the swing set.
“Bitch, no,” Judai chirped, running to catch up with his counterpart. The swamp-like ground sloshed beneath his boots. One minute, he’s a hop, skip, and a jump away from catching up with Johan, and the next, Judai is covered from toe to mid-thigh in the murky mess. Johan turns around, examining Judai, and winds up falling in the mud from laughing so hard.
“At… least… at least… we … match,” he manages to spit out between bouts of laughter.
The fact that they are covered in wet, dirt and soaked to the bone does not even faze the two teenagers. The fact that the ground is unstable does not stop them from running. Judai arrives first, trying to stop way too short on the way too wet ground and eventually wound up crashing against the decaying swing set pole. Johan catches up and sees a single line of blood trailing down Judai’s face. He runs his glacial fingers along Judai’s cheek and grins. “We’ll just let the rain wash that off,” he chuckles, looking up at the sinister skies and shaking some hair out of his face.
Due to his bloody nose and muddy pants, Johan allows Judai the privilege of the right swing, which was higher up off the ground and didn’t squeak as much when in motion, this time. The duo intertwined their fingers and began to pump their legs. Gaining momentum, they swung until they almost touched the storm.
“I can fly, mommy!” Judai squeals.
“I don’t believe you,” Johan shouts, jumping off the swing and running towards the open field, giggling crazily all the while. Judai follows suit, tackling the bluenette to the ground and pinning his wrists into the squishy earth. “Say I can fly,” Judai demands, wishing desperately for an extra set of arms to tickle the other until he broke down.
Rather than admit defeat, Johan lifts his head to press his own near-blue lips against Judai’s. “Apology accepted,” Judai mews, rolling off Johan to lie beside him. Wrapping his arms around the skeleton of the other, he can feel his teeth begin to chatter. He then proceeds to peel off his red jacket and place it over the pair to serve in the place of a blanket.
After a few minutes, the sun peaks out from behind the menacing, gray clouds. The pair groan and force themselves to sit up. Johan offers his hand out to Judai and pulls the younger boy up, returning the jacket. Hand-in-hand, in the heat of the sunshine, the boys trek back through the woods to the dorms.