#rainmaker!au

 Jonghyun fidgeted uncomfortably in the metal chair, stealing glances at his watch and phone. It had been almost a week since Minho had practically fled from his apartment after Jonghyun had confessed the one secret he had spent the majority of his existence trying to hide. Not that he could blame him. The Rainmaker’s history was not one that many civilizations bothered to document. And, granted, maybe Jonghyun shouldn’t have exposed him to a vapor spirit before he had a chance to fully explain himself.  He shuffled through his old journal and ran his fingers lovingly over the pages. This one was from the 1900’s and the first one he kept since being assigned his post. The leather bound book was still in good condition, and Jonghyun chuckled quietly at the amount of unnecessary details filling every page.  He was such a nerd back then, remembering the countless nights he spent writing secretly by candle light. Flashes of memories bombarded him, teaching Hangeul in small shacks in the middle of the country, small children scribbling furiously, eyes squinting in the darkness as they tried to make out the characters they just wrote. Small smiles shared across the room with his co-teacher, love notes and stolen kisses, and the way she looked as she was dragged through the street by a Japanese patrol man, the tiny screams he would never be able to forget, and the way he begged that they take him instead… After Minjung’s death, he had released storm after storm cursing the heavens, pleading with them to give her back.  Jonghyun slammed the journal shut, placing it gently to the side, refusing to remember anymore.They were for Minho, for proof, not for Jonghyun. He didn’t need to relive his past. His memories were vivid enough.  He took a sip from his iced coffee, hands visibly shaking. In an attempt to distract himself, he pulled out his planner. Jonghyun glanced at his wristwatch. It was only 2:58. He still had plenty of time before he had to release another storm. So long as he was back at his apartment by 8:00, he should be able to keep his schedule. Jonghyun reached into his back pocket for his pen, writing a small note to remind himself to remind Minho to stay home tonight. Junho, though docile in personality, was a hell of a storm. Have talk with Junho. Jonghyun scribbled underneath his previous note. Maybe he could convince the little shit to not wreak total havoc on his poor city.  He jumped when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Sighing in relief as he remembered why he was at the coffee shop in the first place. He smiled widely, the idea of seeing Minho after so long making his heart flutter. “Minho, you c-,”the rest of his words stuck in his throat when he met the other’s eyes.  “Not Minho.” The other man stated almost apologetically, hand squeezing gently before moving to sit across from Jonghyun. “How are you old friend?”  Jonghyun’s eyes filled with tears and he choked back a sob. He knew what this meant. It was the way of his world. And yet, he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not when he still had so much to do. “How long do I have?” He wiped at his cheeks and nose trying to rid his face of any evidence of his devastation. It wasn’t the other man’s fault. He was just following orders.  “A couple of weeks. Maybe a month.” The elder smiled sadly. “I’m so sorry, Jjong.”  And with that one sentence, Jonghyun broke into tears yet again. “It’s okay. I knew it was coming. I just didn’t think it would be this quick.” He smiled through his tears and reached for his friend’s hand. “I’m glad it’s you, Jinki.” He managed between sobs. “I’m glad it’s you.”

   Minho wrung his hands under the table and fidgeted in his seat as he wondered just how he would breach the very subject that always seemed to cause their relationship friction. “So,” he began, his throat constricting in his nervousness.      “It looks like rain.” Jonghyun uttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wrapped his pretty little lips around the straw of his iced coffee, as he glanced out the shop window at the darkened sky.      “Yeah, looks like it’s going to pour.” Minho replied flippantly in an attempt to redirect the conversation before Jonghyun went on one of his fanatic tangents, “Jjong, why don’t we ever-,”      He turned his head suddenly, eyes glistening with mischief. “Do you want to see something amazing?” Jonghyun’s smile was so wide and filled with genuine excitement that Minho knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.      “What is it this time?” Minho groaned as they walked down their fifth city block. “Are we almost there?”      Jonghyun tugged at Minho’s jacket sleeve in urgency, “Just half a block further. Hurry or we’ll be late.”      Minho watched in silence as he watched Jonghyun dug through his pockets for his key, his eyes wide in panic. Here he was, after two long years: Jonghyun’s apartment. Minho wondered what he should expect, whether his boyfriend was as much of a pig in his own dwelling as he was at Minho’s. What kind of furniture did he have? Rustic, modern, maybe boho chic?      The door flung open, and Jjong had already removed his shoes. He bounced on the tips of his toes, unable to contain his excitement any longer. Minho chuckled softly to himself, before he noticed the boxes.      Cardboard boxes littered nearly every corner of his boyfriend’s living room, trickling down the hall, and presumably into every other room. Suddenly Minho had the urge to check Jonghyun’s fridge, because holy shit Taemin might have been right.      “Are you moving?” Minho attempted to make small talk in a sorry attempt to mask his building anxiety. He picked up a small box and held it to his ear as he shook it.      “NO!” Jonghyun shouted, almost as if in panic, “I mean, no. I’m not moving.” He gingerly took the small cardboard box from Minho, petting the top of it gently. “You can’t do things like that.” He looked at Minho, his voice now hovering just above a whisper, “This is Steven. He’s not set to be born until June. He’s still a baby.”      It was only then that Minho noticed the tiny, yellow post-it brandishing the front of each and every box, names scribbled in his boyfriend’s distinctly messy handwriting. Minho could no longer contain himself. “Jjong.” he managed in the most soothing voice he could possibly muster, “Jjong are there babies in here? In these boxes?”      Jonghyun wrinkled his brow in confusion, eyes squinting in annoyance, “What? No.” It faded quickly though, the unbridled exhilaration vibrating through him as it had for the better part of the night. He produced a medium sized box from behind his back and placed it in Minho’s large, calloused hands. “Open it.” He whispered. “Openitopenitopenit.”      Minho’s fingers hesitated as he brushed across the name tag. “Luna?” he asked, his voice low and quite with uncertainty.      His boyfriend nodded eagerly. “She’s one of my favorites.”      As soon as Minho removed the lid, a tiny cloud of vapor spirit emerged, arms stretching above her head as she disappeared.      “Uh, Jjong, what was-,”      His boyfriend pressed his finger to his lips, head cocking sideways. “Listen.”      The pattering of rain splashed against the terrace windows, “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”      Minho stared at Jjong’s reflection, still unable to fully comprehend what the fuck just happened.      Jonghyun rubbed the back of his neck, a flush spreading across his cheeks. The sound of the rain intensified into a steady downpour. “I’m kind of a God.”