Whisper of the rain

Nathaniel slammed his laptop shut with an irritated sigh and rubbed his temples. The project he had practically sculpted to fit the client’s endless demands had just been rejected with a single comment: “Too cute.” “Cute?! You literally asked for something cute!” he muttered, throwing a glance at the clock. The office was empty—everyone else had long gone home, and he was still stuck in his corner, wrestling with this nonsense. With another sigh, Nathaniel packed up quickly, threw on his coat, and stepped out into the cold, damp evening. Outside, he was greeted by a downpour. “Of course,” he whispered, pulling his scarf up higher to shield his face as best he could. Luckily, his car was parked nearby. He climbed inside, shivered from the cold, and immediately tried to start the engine. Once. Twice. Three times. Instead of the usual purr, the engine let out a pathetic grinding noise. “Seriously?” Nathaniel dropped his head onto the steering wheel, resisting the urge to hurl his keys out the window. Attempts to revive the car failed. He reached for his phone to call a taxi, but the screen blinked “0%” and died with all the grace of a sinking ship. “Wonderful. Just perfect,” he sighed and stepped out of the car, tugging his coat collar up higher. Puddles stretched across the deserted streets, streetlights casting dull reflections in the water. Squinting against the rain, Nathaniel trudged off toward home. His footsteps echoed in the silence—until, as if fate hadn’t finished with him, a passing car hit a nearby puddle, drenching him in dirty water. “WHAT THE—” Nathaniel barely kept himself from shouting, wiping at his face with a hand. Water ran down his hair and coat, mixing with the rain. The car didn’t even slow down as it vanished into the darkness. “Perfect. Just fantastic,” he muttered through clenched teeth, tiredly wiping his face with his sleeve. Let me know when you’re ready for the next dose of melancholy. Still fuming, Nathaniel walked without watching his step, glaring after the car as if his sheer hatred could make it burst into flames. And that’s when he slammed into something—well, *someone*. The collision was so abrupt that he lost his balance and went down hard onto the cold asphalt. The stranger he’d run into ended up on the ground with him. Now they were both lying in a puddle, looking at each other like two characters in a badly timed slapstick routine. “Are you planning to lie on top of me much longer?” the stranger asked, annoyed but curiously detached. Nathaniel blinked, still in shock, and finally realized what had happened. He was on top. And beneath him? A blond guy with sharp features and unnervingly calm, piercing eyes. “You could at least apologize for standing in my way,” Nathaniel snapped, clinging to whatever dignity he had left. The stranger snorted, his eyes flicking over Nathaniel with something between disdain and curiosity. “In your way?” he echoed with sarcasm. “You walked into me, not the other way around.” Nathaniel got to his feet with some effort and held out a hand. The stranger ignored it and stood up on his own. Now, standing face-to-face, they could get a proper look at each other: soaked to the bone, smeared with grime, and both clearly not done arguing. “Fantastic. Not only am I soaked, now I look like an idiot,” the blond muttered, brushing off his coat. “Glad we’re on the same wavelength,” Nathaniel smirked, shrugging. He couldn’t help but notice the guy’s sharp, almost predatory face—and those eyes, cold enough to cut glass. “Is something funny?” the blond asked, catching the amused look on his face. “Yeah,” Nathaniel answered casually, still holding his gaze. “You look like you were about to hand out flyers on how to walk properly in the rain.” The stranger narrowed his eyes but didn’t move. “And you look like your life is just one long disaster film,” he shot back, giving Nathaniel a deliberate once-over. For a moment, silence. Only the rain filled the space between them. Then Nathaniel laughed. “You know, you’re not that bad,” he said with a crooked grin. “Want to hear how this could’ve gone even worse?” “No, thanks,” the blond replied, already turning away. “But if you want to avoid falling into another puddle, try looking where you’re going.” Nathaniel watched him leave, still trying to figure out what kind of fever dream he had just walked into. What a guy, Nathaniel thought, folding his arms across his chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He started walking again, but his mind kept circling back to the mysterious stranger. There was something about him. Just a random guy, a nearly random encounter—if knocking someone into a puddle could be called “random.” And yet, those cold golden eyes kept flashing through his thoughts. The rain only seemed to get heavier. Water streamed down his face, drops slapping wetly against his shoulders, and the wind kept throwing icy gusts right down the back of his coat. Nathaniel sighed, sinking deeper into the realization of just how far he still had to walk. Suddenly, a sharp honk tore through his thoughts. He flinched and snapped his head toward the sound. A car had pulled over at the curb. In the half-open window, he spotted that same stranger. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride,” he said curtly. “What?” Nathaniel froze, unsure if he’d heard right. “You’re soaked,” the blond added, sounding vaguely annoyed. “Or are you planning to walk home in that state?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “Why would you even offer?” “Because if you manage to crash into *anyone else* tonight, I might not survive it,” the stranger muttered. “Just get in.” Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, but the idea of walking through another mile of torrential rain was enough to convince him. He jogged over, yanked open the door, and slid inside, slamming it shut behind him. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly, pulling off his coat and shaking water from his hair. “No need to thank me,” the blond replied, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended him. “This wasn’t on my to-do list.” “You’re a real sweetheart,” Nathaniel muttered with a crooked smile, turning toward him. The man just snorted and pulled away from the curb. “Where am I taking you?” he asked, eyes locked on the road, as if none of this involved him. Nathaniel studied him for a moment before answering. “Maple and Third.” The stranger gave a short nod, though something in his expression flickered. “Hm,” he murmured, clearly surprised, but didn’t elaborate. “What?” Nathaniel caught the change, squinting as he leaned in slightly. “What ‘hm’?” “Nothing,” the blond said curtly, shooting him a sideways glare. “You just happen to live a couple of blocks from me.” Nathaniel couldn’t help the faint grin that tugged at his lips. “Really? Small world.” “Too small,” the other muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “You know,” Nathaniel said, leaning back into the seat, “I’m kind of amazed we haven’t bumped into each other before. Your sharp tongue and my… catastrophically unlucky evening? Feels inevitable.” The blond gave a dry snort as he shifted gears. “Maybe fate was trying to protect us from a disaster.” “Or planning one,” Nathaniel mused, watching raindrops race down the window. Silence settled in the car, but it wasn’t awkward. More like… space to process how weird the night had turned out. “Hey,” Nathaniel said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “What’s your name? I never asked when I body-slammed you into a puddle.” The blond glanced at him briefly before looking back at the road. “Andrew.” “Andrew…” Nathaniel repeated, as if trying the name on for size. “Well, nice to meet you, Andrew.” Despite his cold and distant demeanor, Andrew didn’t seem as indifferent as he tried to appear. After a few seconds, he spoke again, still watching the road. “And you?” Nathaniel turned toward him, a little surprised by the question. “Me what?” “Your name. Or should I keep calling you Red Tornado?” Nathaniel laughed, shaking his head. “Nathaniel. But you can call me Nat. Or Tornado, if that’s your thing.” Andrew looked at him for a second, then back at the road. “Nathaniel,” he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. “Nice ring to it, right?” Nat smiled, not hiding the amusement in his voice. Andrew didn’t respond, but his silence said more than words. The car rolled to a stop in front of a small apartment complex. Nathaniel turned to him, hesitated, and then decided it couldn’t get more ridiculous. “Want to come in? I’ve got coffee… and probably something edible.” Andrew looked at him, taking his time to answer. His golden eyes studied Nat, like he was trying to read through a closed book. “Do you always invite strangers into your home?” he finally asked, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Nathaniel felt a flush creep up his cheeks. He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “No! I mean—no, I usually don’t. This is just… You gave me a ride, and I thought… I mean… never mind.” He waved it off and reached for the door. Andrew continued watching him silently. Then the corner of his mouth lifted, almost imperceptibly. “Alright,” he said. Nathaniel froze, turning back to him. “‘Alright’ what?” “Alright,” Andrew repeated, switching off the engine. “Your place. Coffee.” Nathaniel stared at him in disbelief for a second, then nodded, trying not to look too shocked. “Okay. Just a heads-up, it’s… kind of a mess.” Andrew shrugged and stepped out of the car. Nathaniel’s apartment was cozy but far from tidy—books stacked on the table, cushions tossed on the couch, pencils forgotten on the windowsill. A blend of elegance and creative chaos. While Andrew took a cursory glance around the living room, Nat disappeared into one of the rooms and returned in dry clothes, holding a fluffy towel. A sheepish smile played on his lips. “Here. You can dry your hair—it’s still soaked.” Andrew took the towel without a word, casting a quick glance at the redhead, who definitely seemed a little nervous. “Come on,” Nat said, motioning for him to follow. “I’ll make you some coffee. It’s good. I swear.” “Hopefully you’re not just bragging,” Andrew said coolly, trailing after him into the kitchen. Nat gave a half-laugh, his shoulders loosening a little. “I never brag,” he said as he turned on the coffee machine. “I only speak the truth.” Andrew sat at the bar counter, watching Nathaniel move around with a practiced ease, like the whole process was part ritual, part therapy. “Do you always get this jumpy when someone comes over?” Andrew asked suddenly, eyes fixed on him. Nathaniel nearly dropped a mug and gave a sheepish laugh. “I’m just… not used to situations like this,” he admitted, turning back to the machine. “I usually don’t get random visitors.” “So I’m an exception?” Andrew asked flatly, raising an eyebrow. Nathaniel turned back with two mugs in hand, offering one to him. “Tonight’s been full of exceptions. Here—try it.” Andrew took the mug, and their fingers brushed for a brief second. Nat stayed standing across from him, waiting. “Well?” he asked curiously. “It’s tolerable,” Andrew said, taking another sip. Nat scoffed, looking down. “You could at least pretend to be impressed.” Andrew smirked faintly but said nothing more, sipping his coffee while watching Nathaniel from under half-lowered lashes. Surprisingly, being around Nat was… easy. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. The conversation just flowed—about the weather, ridiculous life moments, even the strange quirks of public transportation. Nothing too deep, but enough to feel like they’d known each other longer than just an hour. Nathaniel turned out to be surprisingly engaging—his self-deprecating humor gave his words a kind of quiet charm. Andrew listened, occasionally chiming in with dry comments, though he found himself replying more than he normally would. “So,” Nat said, leaning against the kitchen counter with an empty mug in hand, “I’ve already told you how I ended up outside in a flood. What about you? What kept you at the office so late?” Andrew gave a small shrug, his gaze still calm and unreadable. “Work. And sometimes… people.” Nat scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You say that like people are the worst thing in the world.” “Sometimes they are,” Andrew replied, eyes flicking to what remained of his coffee. “Then I got lucky. You still drove me home,” Nat grinned, swinging his leg under the table. Andrew looked at him—just a beat too long. “Still not sure it was a good idea,” he said with a faint smirk. Nathaniel laughed, and it came out so light, so genuine, it felt like even the rain outside had quieted to listen. “Too late for regrets now. You’re stuck with me,” he said, winking. Andrew didn’t respond, but the smallest twitch of a smile betrayed him. At some point, they had migrated to the living room, lounging on the couch, laughing at the dumb show playing on the TV. Nathaniel didn’t quite know how they got there—but he didn’t want to question it either. It all felt oddly dreamlike. Unreal in the best way. If someone had told him he’d end up spending the night with a complete stranger, laughing at sarcastic commentary and enjoying their weird little back-and-forth, Nat would’ve rolled his eyes and called them insane. But now? He couldn’t stop watching Andrew’s face as he made another deadpan remark about the absurdity on screen. His golden eyes sparkled with faint amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching in something dangerously close to a smile. “Did you seriously just say that?” Nat wheezed, laughter bubbling again. “Who writes this crap?” “People with too much free time,” Andrew replied dryly, eyes still on the screen. “And you still have the patience to watch it?” Nat shook his head, the grin glued to his face. Andrew shrugged, finally meeting his gaze. “Sometimes stupidity is funnier than logic.” That made Nathaniel laugh even harder. “God, you really know how to kill a moment.” “Not every moment,” Andrew murmured, watching him closely. Nathaniel stilled, catching the subtle weight behind the words. Or was he imagining it? “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” he muttered, still smiling, though now his voice carried more wonder than sarcasm. “Likewise,” Andrew said softly, his gaze lingering a little too long. Nat bit his lip, trying to suppress the odd flutter in his chest. His fingers trembled slightly, and he nervously raked a hand through his hair. Andrew observed, trying to keep his composure, but inside he felt something twist. The way Nathaniel bit his lip… it was distracting. Too distracting. He looked away. Then immediately wanted to look back. “Do you always do that?” he asked abruptly, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “Do what?” Nathaniel blinked. “Bite your lip,” Andrew said, gaze returning to his mouth. Nathaniel froze, caught off guard. “It’s a habit,” he admitted with a small shrug. “Didn’t think anyone noticed.” Andrew gave a soft grunt, his eyes still scanning Nat’s face. “You’re too noticeable not to notice.” “Was that a compliment?” Nat whispered, voice barely above a breath. Andrew didn’t answer right away. His gaze dipped again to Nat’s lips, slower this time. He leaned in slightly, and something electric hung in the air—like a string pulled taut. “Maybe,” he murmured, voice lower, more intimate. Nathaniel didn’t even realize he had leaned closer too. His breathing quickened, hypnotic. “Well, I feel lucky then,” he said, voice husky. “You don’t seem like someone who gives out compliments lightly.” Andrew said nothing, his eyes locked on Nat’s mouth. Every movement, every breath, seemed to draw him in. Time felt like it slowed, leaving just the two of them and the quiet. He leaned forward, almost giving in—but some small voice of restraint held him back. He pulled away slightly, stood up. “It’s late. I should go,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “Yeah, of course,” Nathaniel said quickly, jumping up with him, walking him to the door. His voice cracked with disappointment he couldn’t hide. Andrew threw on his coat, glanced at him once more, something unreadable in his eyes. He said nothing, just gave a small nod—and left. The door clicked shut. Nathaniel leaned against it, exhaling heavily. “What the hell am I doing…” he muttered, running a hand down his face. It was surreal. Everything that had happened tonight felt both ridiculous and absolutely right. He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Didn’t even get his number,” he muttered with a crooked smile. “What *were* we even doing all night?” He touched his lips, remembering the intensity in those golden eyes. A sudden knock shattered his thoughts. He blinked, startled back to the present, and reached for the door without thinking. “What now?” he mumbled, pulling it open. Andrew stood there. His face was serious, eyes heavy, fingers trembling like he had fought himself the whole way—and lost. Nathaniel opened his mouth to say *something*, anything—but before he could, Andrew stepped in, grabbed him by the neck, and pulled him in. The kiss was instant—hot, demanding, desperate. Every word they might’ve said dissolved into the space between them. Nathaniel kissed back just as fiercely, hands gripping Andrew’s shoulders, breath stuttering. The world shrank to just this. Andrew didn’t hesitate. His hand slid down, and before Nat could register it, he was lifted by the hips and pinned against the wall. Andrew’s body pressed close—hot, solid, *intentional*. He kissed him deeper now, like there was no turning back. Nathaniel melted into it, trembling, letting his coat fall away. His fingers tangled in Andrew’s hair, tugging gently, drawing out a low growl from him. Andrew responded in kind—urgent, focused. Clothes fell, layer by layer, each one hitting the floor like punctuation. “You’re insane,” Andrew whispered, voice rough. “Took you long enough to notice,” Nat shot back, his own voice trembling with need. They kissed again, harder. Touch was everything. Urgent. Necessary. Andrew’s hands roamed Nat’s body with reverence and hunger, Nat’s nails dug into his shoulders. Their bodies moved with growing intensity, like music swelling to a crescendo. Every sound, every breath, was shared. Every touch burned. And neither of them wanted to stop. Nathaniel tilted his head back, unable to suppress the unbearable wave of desire surging through him. His lips parted, breath ragged, as if he were trying to gulp air that vanished too fast. “You’re driving me insane,” he whispered, feeling how every touch from Andrew ignited something deeper inside him. Andrew shifted, raising himself just enough so their faces were level. He pressed his lips to Nat’s, his breath scorching against freckled skin. Then, pulling back just slightly, he murmured—his voice low, deep, barely audible: “Maybe it’s the other way around.” And without waiting for a reply, he caught Nat’s lips again in a kiss so fierce it felt like their bodies were fusing into one. Nathaniel felt himself dissolving in Andrew’s arms, completely lost, ready to give in with nothing held back. And when Andrew entered him, the sensation was both aching and perfect—so intense it left no room for thought. The world vanished around them, leaving only this—only *them*. And Nat’s body, overwhelmed, bore silent witness to that inevitable closeness. “Breathe,” Andrew whispered, his voice landing in Nat’s chest like a gentle command. Nathaniel’s head swam, and he obeyed, accepting the words like a lifeline. Andrew didn’t rush. He remained still, letting Nat adjust, feeling every slow moment of the redhead’s body opening to him. His lips brushed Nat’s neck and collarbone with featherlight kisses, tender and careful, as if he wanted to give time and space for everything Nat was feeling to settle and bloom. Nat’s body craved more, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips, pressing up into Andrew, silently asking—*begging*—for more. Andrew gave a low, amused hum, his lips grazing Nat’s neck as he murmured: “So impatient…” There was a faint trace of teasing in his voice, but his hands stayed soft, his gaze focused—watching every reaction like it was sacred. He started moving—slowly, deliberately—relishing every gasp, every shiver, every subtle arch of Nathaniel’s body. Each motion felt like music—measured, intentional, and building toward something unstoppable. Andrew kept his eyes on Nat, his focus unshakable. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was watching Nat unravel, consumed by need, lost in the moment. Their rhythm built like a storm, like music swelling from a whisper to a roar. Andrew’s movements grew deeper, still measured, still in control—like he refused to let the moment burn out too fast. Nathaniel arched beneath him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers dug into Andrew’s shoulders, leaving soft marks like anchors in the rising tide. “Andrew…” he moaned, voice trembling, almost breaking. But it was full—so full of everything he couldn’t put into words. In response, Andrew pulled him closer, lips finding his neck again, leaving burning kisses behind. His pace shifted, more demanding now—like something inside him had cracked open. They moved together, breath for breath, pulse for pulse, until nothing existed beyond the touch and the heat between them. Nat let go completely. Vulnerable. Present. His body spoke where words failed: every quiver, every broken breath, weaving into the shared rhythm of them both. Time slipped from their grasp, irrelevant. When their movements became perfectly in sync, no longer fighting for control but surrendering to connection, Nathaniel felt his consciousness blur, leaving only the fire in his veins. Andrew felt it too—pressed Nat tighter against him, hands gripping his waist as he exhaled Nat’s name in a half-broken groan. And in that moment, everything stilled. When they finally reached the edge together, Andrew let out a low, guttural sound, finishing their dance with one last powerful motion. Time froze for a beat. Nathaniel clung to him, both of them burning from the inside out, hearts hammering in the same chaotic rhythm. They breathed each other in—gasping, silent, undone. And then… silence. Only the thudding of their hearts and the lingering warmth of skin against skin. Nathaniel didn’t move. Neither did Andrew. They stayed there, still tangled, the weight of what had just happened settling around them like soft gravity. Every brush of skin, every look, felt like a promise.

***

The next morning, Nathaniel stirred slowly, stretching as a dull ache in his muscles reminded him of the most chaotic, beautiful night of his life. Each movement sang of everything they’d shared—pain wrapped in pleasure, a memory etched into his body. He sat up, breath catching slightly, and turned to the side of the bed where Andrew had been. It was empty. Only the rumpled sheets hinted that anyone had been there at all. “Of course you’re gone,” Nat whispered, a heaviness sinking into his chest. His mind raced. Where was Andrew? Why did he leave? Was it real at all? Half in a daze, he kicked off the blanket and stood, limping a little as he made his way to the kitchen. He didn’t notice right away that he wasn’t alone. Andrew was standing by the coffee machine, watching him silently, arms crossed, face calm—but eyes focused, alert. A strange softness sat just beneath the tension, like he’d been waiting. Nathaniel froze, jaw tightening as relief and confusion warred across his face. Andrew noticed—and smiled. Just a little. “I thought you ghosted me,” Nat said, trying for casual as he dropped onto a stool by the counter. Andrew walked over, his steps calm and certain. He reached out, gently tilting Nathaniel’s chin up until their eyes met. There was something raw and unguarded in his expression. “Did you want me to?” he asked, his voice quiet and low, vibrating in Nat’s chest more than his ears. “No,” Nat whispered, throat tight. It came out honest. Too honest. “Then you’re stuck with me,” Andrew murmured, and the words felt like a touch. “I’m not letting you go.” Then he kissed him—softly this time. Full of everything they hadn’t said out loud. Nathaniel wrapped his arms around him, fingers running through blond hair, finally letting himself sink into it. Andrew scooped him up effortlessly, carrying him toward the bedroom again. Nat laughed, breathless. “You’re insane.” “You pushed me into a puddle, remember?” Andrew replied, grinning. Their laughter echoed through the apartment as Andrew laid him back onto the bed, crawling in beside him like they hadn’t just rewritten everything between them. They stayed like that—quiet, close, breathing the same air. Wrapped in each other. Nathaniel closed his eyes, heart finally settling into something calm and certain. He couldn’t explain what he felt. Maybe he didn’t need to. Andrew’s fingers traced his arm slowly, anchoring them in the moment. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. They had time. And right now—this was enough. When Nathaniel opened his eyes again and saw Andrew watching him, they both understood: this didn’t need defining. It didn’t need labels or questions. It simply was. “I don’t want you to leave,” Nat whispered, no longer trying to pretend he wasn’t afraid of losing this. Andrew’s smile softened, one hand brushing through red curls. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied quietly, and those four words were enough. They stayed curled together in the pale light of morning, saying nothing—but speaking more than they ever had. And maybe that was the point. Maybe that silence—full, steady, unbroken—was everything. And this moment—like their first meeting—had no beginning and no end.