It seems like all it does in Inaba is rain. Not that Souji minds too much- it’s calming. Much better than the bright lights and sirens of a city that never really falls asleep. Even when the lightning lights up his bedroom and he can feel the thunder rumble in his ribcage, he’s thankful. It’s dark and peaceful and surprisingly familiar.
Sure, it rained in the city, but the sound was always drowned out by the constant hum of halogen and shouts from drunken troublemakers. One could never truly enjoy the pitter patter of rain.
As if to mimic the lightning, Souji’s phone lights up, vibrating softly on his bed. He’s surprised to see that it’s Adachi’s name on the screen.
it’s raining, souji-kun… does that remind you of anything?
And yes, yes it does. It reminds Souji of their last meeting; of Adachi’s hands under his wet shirt, the suffocating darkness of a random interrogation room, and, of course, the sound of rain on the roof of the police station. Thunder roars outside, but all Souji can feel is his heart pounding. Competing.
Lightning illuminates his grin as he types, Should it?
If Souji concentrates hard enough, he can conjure again the feeling of Adachi’s fingertips on his skin. How they stutter and stumble, dry against wet. It had been pouring earlier that day and Souji had forgotten his umbrella. He ducked under the awning of the police station for shelter and really, he should have known better. Adachi was attracted to the thrill of the chase and Souji was running like hell.
you know the answer to that.
Vividly, he remembers Adachi mumbling into his neck, lips slick with the mixture of rain and saliva. In Souji’s memory, the mumbling is just sounds- no real words, just nonsensical hums of what he hopes is approval. Their own private song.
The memory lights Souji’s senses on fire, gets his face and chest so hot that he has to open his window to let in the cool air. The rain is suddenly in high definition; he can practically taste the droplets on his tongue and he’s so, so hot.
It’s almost midnight and really, he should be asleep because it’s a school night. But the rain simultaneously makes it effortless and difficult to sleep.
Souji decides that one last text will do; he’ll lay down and drift off thinking of mocking laughter and drenched clothes and the soft, ever-present sound of rain.
I’ll come by the police station tomorrow.