#hq.bbs

he had no doubt you would be coming outside as soon as you woke up to the pouring rain. 

though he texted you anyway, just to be sure.

you’re squatting on the side of the road, freaking tf out bc you thought you heard a meow from the sewer. but you just finished watching It the other day.

yes, he jumps on you and ya’ll are both rolling around in the little ravines, soaked with water. 

but now he’s the one freaking tf out when the thunder suddenly rumbles -- and then you hear the meow again.

turns out you spend the rest of your day trying to find a way to get into the sewer, because you are both certain that there’s a cat down there.

ya’ll are hiking into the sewer, all suited up, ready for sewer-war ig. (if it weren’t for a neighbor, you both would have gone in in tennis shoes.)

turns out that neighbor also works smarter, not harder. 

you’re halfway in when ya’ll freak and bolt out the way you came to find that your neighbor stuck a plank into the sewer and a cat has carried her kitten out.

basically, are both irresponsible goblin cat parents now.

USHIJIMA

i know what you’re thinking. yes, ik what you’re thinking. ushiwaka? adoring a significant other with an aesthetic like that? 

the answer is yes. i mean, he and tendou are best friends, first of all. second of all, he needs someone energetic and adventurous and you need someone grounded and practical. and opposites most definitely attract.

the first time he remembers seeing you is when you’re squatting near the sidewalk, peering at an area ripe with roly-polies. 

you are right up in their grill when he walks by, peering over at what you’re doing without so much as a word. he nearly chuckles, like straight-up chuckles. but before he can, he’s gone. 

the next time, he’s walking back home after practice because he missed the bus. and it’s pouring. yes, even the great ushiwaka gets unlucky.

he is completely blown away by the familiar figure splashing in the storm. he doesn’t know what the hell you’re doing until he passes you on the sidewalk once more.

and you splash him. all over his clothes. the pure shock and fear that crosses your face? priceless. if he were anyone else, he’d be on the floor laughing.

no, he just smiles instead and attempts to shake the water off his clothes as though he isn’t already soaked when it’s raining sideways and his umbrella is tiny.

he offers his umbrella, and however many years later, he can’t help smiling every time you insist on making a bug-utopia on the back porch or return home soaked to the bone -- pretending like you didn’t dally outside and count the seconds between thunder booming and lightning striking.

he genuinely loves it, loves you, really; always happy to generate cuddles when you hunker down at a window and watch the rain pour.