Bokuto's Short Story: Mean Girls

“I told you it was going to rain today.”

Kuroo laughs lightly, chest rumbling against Bokuto’s spine as he spikes the ends of his already spiked hair. “I’m starting to think you hair can tell the weather.”

Clouds roll in, darkening the atmosphere outside their tiny home, loud but comforting in their arrival. Bokuto glances toward the open window, caged and content in the space between Kuroo’s legs, admiring the succulents he pushed out onto the windowsill earlier as they await the rainfall that’s sure to come..

“Yeah? I’m like that one girl from Mean Girls-minus the boobs though.”

“Which one?”

Bokuto’s face screws up, trying to conjure up her appearance. “Uuuh, the blonde one? You know-typical cliche ‘dumb’ blonde. Kinda hot too.”

Time ticks by, neither of them bothered to care, both taking full advantage of their off day to laze about. But a sudden clap of thunder shakes the ceiling and with it the drone of heavy, fat droplets falling begins, startling Bokuto.

He stirs against Kuroo only for the arms wrapped around him to tighten as the owner tries their best to stay asleep, nuzzling into the crook of Bokuto’s neck.

But Bokuto has other plans.

Hands reach up again to twist mussed up hair between his fingers, he states, voice light and soft, “It’s raining now.”

A hum reverberated against his throat is all he gets in reply.

“We should go out.” He suggests, testing the water little by little.

Kuroo already knows where this is headed, eyes still shut in protest, but he plays along anyway. “Out where?”

Bokuto shrugs, the feeling of eyelashes against his skin tickles slightly at his own movement. “Just outside. In the rain. we can play in it.”

A huff.

Bokuto takes this as a victory and presses on. “It’ll be fun.” A kiss on the chin-a manipulative action. “There is no growth without a little watering,” he

Faces mere millimeters apart. “We should.”

Eyes slip close instinctively and Bokuto takes the initiative of letting them meet.

Kissing Kuroo was always dizzying. It made his head spin at eighteen years old, behind school buildings and the sun low in the sky. And now, at twenty five, with the rain in his hair and the cloud casting darkness over them, he still finds it a little hard to stay upright.

He grips Kuroo’s waist, firm but soft, steadying; earning him a light sigh against his mouth. He takes the opportunity to explore, tasting, memorizing.

There is warmth between them. Incredible, intense warmth. Unwavering since their high school days, a stirring in their chest that neither can remember being without.

Kuroo’s heart is fast and racing when he breaks apart, panting. He kisses the corners of Bokuto’s mouth. His lips are wet and swollen, a cherry red, and Kuroo restrains the desire to lose him himself against it.

“Was this your plan all along, get me out into the rain and then woo me like some cliche romance?”

Bokuto laughs, rubbing small circles into Kuroo’s waist. “Guilty, guilty, and guilty.”

A smile.

“I like your