#youkanan

~You Watanabe and Kanan Matsuura Valentines day set idolized and unidolized (#1445 and #1442)~

as requested by anon-san

Happy Palentines day, friends! I really wanted to do something chocolate and stars themed for the idolized version and finally after trying for a week or so I made something I’m really proud of.

Also, I hope you’ll like the shitty pun in the unidolized version wallpaper. Because, as we all on tumblr know, Valentine’s day is actually about shitty Valentines day cards with shitty puns :D

guess who wrote fluff, holy shit maybe my mind’s been kidnapped but anyway have this, kanan’s in love and so is you

also featuring my favourite secondperson, which we all know you should never do in a watanabe fic. to clarify, this is a kanan-pov fic.

words: 1232 (no readmore even though there really should)

enjoy!

You’re twenty-five and she’s twenty-four, and today, it rained.

“C’mon, shouldn’t we act more like our age?” She sticks out her tongue at you. It catches a few raindrops, making her giggle and pull it back.

“As if you’re one to say anything!”

You shake your head helplessly, spraying water droplets around. It’s like you two are little girls again, chasing each other and Chika around the whole of Uchiura together. Although today, Chika’s not here. It’s just you and You. And strangely, that’s okay, you think as you raise your head to look at her, who’s grinning at you wide as you please. It’s dazzling, almost like the sun, the sun which shines its brightest when the real sun isn’t out.

Like now.

You dances in the rain, sneakers squelching and filling up with rain, socks soaked and clothes heavy. A tornado in the rain, she leaps and jumps, not missing a step nor offbeat, sending droplets flying. It’s nearly like watching her perform onstage again, except you’re a spectator now, and this is a show just for you. To any onlooker, you two probably just look dumb, getting soaked and fooling around now without a care in the world. Yet to you, it’s just you and her, her cerulean-blue eyes flashing in the dreary rain, looking straight at you.

Then she stops mid-hop, smiles, and it feels like the world stops with her, although the raindrops are still pelting down. You watch as the corners of You’s eyes crinkle up and her grin climbs up her rain-streaked cheeks. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. You’re completely in love, and you realise this isn’t the time to think about acting your age, for both of you are in your element, and let’s face it, it’d be a waste to let this evening come and go.

She extends her palm, and you take it, like an idiot. And she yanks, eyes sparkling with mischief, and you sigh as you let yourself fall into her arms, because really, you should have expected that.

How easy for the face in the crowd to become the one the crowd faces. Lazily looping your arms around her waist, you pull her in, tangling one hand into You’s tangled strands of wet hair, and you kiss her. There’s nothing quite like You in the rain. She tastes like, well, the rain, but on contrary to the normal tasteless flavour of water, it’s sweet, possibly from her strawberry lip gloss, and a tinge of zest not unlike her spunky personality. You giggles against the kiss, breaking it and softly nudges her nose against yours. Her forehead rests against yours, and your lips brush but they don’t connect.

You’s body backs away from yours, yet your hands are still firmly locked. She commands your limp arm such that she does a perfect, smooth pirouette, the strings on her jacket whipping around in a frenzy, her hair flying in wet tendrils. Then she looks back at you, as if challenging you. Ballroom dancing isn’t how you planned this, but then again you didn’t really plan this anyway. You’re not one to back away anyway, even if neither of you know the first thing about waltz besides pirouettes. Are pirouettes even part of waltz? You just can’t recall. Her eyes are distracting, making your mind come up empty. They’re telling you to lead, and well, you guess you might as well try.

It’s going pretty well, you reckon. The last time you two tried this, it was in You’s living room, when a ballroom dancing programme came on television, and you suggested, “Why not?”

Ballroom dancing is so very different from idol dancing, as you two found out, and soon both of you were sprawled on the floor, laughing and panting, with sore necks from having to constantly look at the television. You rolled over and kissed her, and she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You were seventeen and she was sixteen, and it feels like a millennium ago.

“Hey, hey, Kanan, whatcha thinkin’ about?” You’s finger pokes your cheeks, squishing them. You two have been holding this pose for a while, you realise. Is that your fault? Shit. The rest of her hand cups your face, and you lean into her gentle touch. She’s genuinely concerned, you realise. It’s sweet, and your smile only grows a little wider.

“Nothing, just thinking about that time we first did this. You know, when we danced to the TV? What, eight years ago?” You break pose to scratch the back of your head, a bad habit you’ve always had. A nervous tic. She laughs, the coarse sound serenading your ears, and something unbearably warm wells up within you at the sound.

“What, you still remember that? You old elephant.”

“And you don’t?” You challenge her back, enjoying the banter. So what, you were a sentimental being. So was You.

“No. I do.” Her warm eyes meet yours, and you feel yourself falling all over again. There’s a sense of weightlessness, as if your feet aren’t touching the ground. Then you realise they actually aren’t.

When you said ‘falling all over again’, well, you didn’t mean it literally. But this works too. Both of you break into uncontrollable laughter, laughing until your stomach hurts, until she’s sprawled all over you and tears are forming at the corners of her eyes. She’s so close, nearly suffocating, the scent of wet-rain and your girlfriend enveloping you, and just. Wow. She leans down just as you strain upwards, and then you decide you can’t keep up this posture for the whole duration of the kiss, tugging her down. You makes a grumble-squeak expressing her complaints as much as she can through the kiss, but she complies. You laugh at the sound, leaning into the kiss.

When the kiss breaks, both of your faces are completely flushed, and it’s only now that you realise that the rain’s stopped. Her eyes light up again at the mention, eagerly tugging at your hands again, already up on her feet with renewed enthusiasm, completely unaware of how she’s also tugging at your heartstrings. It’s totally unfair, and you roll your eyes at yourself. Completely useless, Matsuura.

You follow the line of her vision, and you snort at what she’s fixated at. Of course. You turns back to look back, at least having the shame to look a little sheepish, the pink blush creeping up her face and engulfing her ears. You shake your head, your own light flush forming at her enthusiasm. It may have been a millennium ago, yet the days of when you were seventeen and she were sixteen seem only yesterday again. You’re falling again.

You grab her warm, calloused palms and she pulls you up. You both trade grins, ready. Then You breaks the moment,  standing at her tiptoes and pecking the tip of your nose. You giggle at the unexpected gesture, blush dusting your cheeks. Both of your hair and clothes are soaked and heavy, yet you feel as light as air. You may be twenty-five and she may be twenty-four, but in the rain, all semblance of responsibilities evaporate on the spot. (Dia would be ashamed, you think, but you can’t bring yourself to care.) Your nose is still tingling, and You’s neck is still pink.

kanayou.

You Watanabe watched her from the top of the lighthouse - a blip in the distance far below, her dark navy wetsuit a mark against the crystal blue of the summer sea. She inched closer and pressed her palms to the glass window, squinting in an attempt to make out her figure.

She really should get her contacts fixed up soon.

She could still see an outline of Kanan Matsuura, though. The first-year high schooler was oblivious to the girl far up in the lighthouse, adjusting her high ponytail before a diving down again in a smooth motion. The water rippled where she disappeared down the surface before the spot washed over again to the gentle tide of the ocean.

You sighed, tearing her gaze away from Kanan’s boat. It was a little silly really, to get so caught up in the other girl that she had joined the diving team when she entered Middle School in an attempt to catch Kanan’s attention.

It hadn’t amounted to anything more than the older girl nodding a polite greeting at her when they passed in the hallways during the two years they shared in Middle School.

Maybe - maybe if You got good enough at diving to enter the Nationals, maybe Kanan would - 

No. She placed her hands on her cheeks, willing the image she concocted away. No matter what happened, it was unlikely that Kanan would ever notice her, she though, a bitter smile making its way to her lips.