and…she was the only other one here.

your eyes narrow at your near empty, much too warm glass of iced tea. where is finn ames when he was the one who had suggested this picnic?

and abel and abyss. where in the world is your own group of friends? you had all agreed to meet more than twenty minutes ago.

the parchment paper collapses in your fist.

“nee-san,” mash stretches out the last syllable, “please stop ignoring me.”

“ah, sorry. was just thinking.” your grip unfurls slightly and you toss it in your makeshift garbage bag. with a sigh, you turn to lemon. “lemon-chan?”

she beams, “leave it to me, nee-san!”

within three minutes of being introduced to lemon irvine, you’d realized that whenever and wherever it concerns your dark-haired cousin, she was more than happy to abandon any and all sense of fundamental logic, sense, and restraint. this inherently included immediately adopting mash’s way of addressing you.

but in times like these, you suppose that as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…

you give her a small smile back.

“mash-kun!” spurred on by what is surely her nee-san-in-law’s approval, lemon starts her task in pacifying the sole object of her affections. “it’s okay, he should be okay. just look!”

on cue, the three of you swivel to the far corner of the park, where not long after you had laid out the picnic gear, a man arrived and sat on the park bench with a real, living, breathing bunny on his lap.

currently, this stranger on the bench seems completely oblivious to the fact that a group of similarly strange strangers is staring him down in concern. it’s like he existed in his own impenetrable jungle of bunny fur and main character park benches, basking under the afternoon sun even as three pairs of eyes are homed in on him from under the biggest, tallest, and only oak tree in the park.

his hand steadily pets the grey bunny.

that means he should be…fine?

lemon sighs in relief. “see, mash-kun? he’s–”

she is cut abruptly short.

the three of you watch the man lowers his head.

as horror dawns on lemon’s face, the man takes a visible breath and lifts his hand from the bunny’s back. he closes his eyes. the sunlight seems to dim a little.

mash snaps back to you.

lemon also looks at you, panicked. “um, he’s fine? maybe not? uh, umm, n-nee-san? can mash-kun go beat them up?”

“uh,” you pry your eyes away from the man and back at your juniors. “no, that’d be assault,” you shrug. “even if it’s deserved.”

mash visibly deflates, and lemon holds out the half-consumed box of cream buffs in consolation.

you let out a sigh.

you are so going to skin abel and abyss for flaking last minute.

you glance at the stranger again.

the only silver lining…

you can’t help the warmth that canvasses the back of your neck.

middle part, black on the left and yellow on the right, his face is strong and soft features at once. handsome.

you squint in concentration.

he looks to be around the same age as you, abel, and abyss, but the way he carries himself…there is an unmissable, imposing apathy to him, and while it certainly makes him look wiser and more unforgiving than all of you combined, it’s not scary, absolutely not.

it’s that distinct taste of solitude that lifts him into an air of divinity, an untouchable aloofness, which appears just a bit more weighted after the two assholes left.

not that you can be absolutely certain with how cool his default expression has been since he sat down.

not that you’ve been watching him.

and not that you’ve been keeping track.

he’s just eye-catching. in what universe would eyes not be caught by a man sitting with a bunny in the park, you reason.

it’s beyond the fact that the man happens to be handsome, beautiful, and totally your type.

no, it’s only because it’s a man with a bunny sitting on the park bench.

right, the stranger with the bunny just piques your curiosity.

“nee-san.”

“hmm?”

“you should go talk to him.”

you glance at mash. “huh?”

“you should go talk to him.”

the warmth quickly turns into heat. “what?”

“you’re staring,” he explains in between bites of his beloved, homemade cream puff. “a lot.”

“excuse me?” you have half a mind to hit him with the five-litre thermos of iced tea.

“nee-san’s been staring at him since he sat down,” your baby cousin continues, completely clueless to the contortions crawling through the stages of shock on your face. “and when the two guys were talking about him, you look like you were going to fling them–”

“keep talking and i’ll fling you into the lake.”

mash visibly deflates again. “but nee-san, there’s nothing wrong with looking. you’re the one who said that i should do what i want,” he mutters.

a pang of guilt stabs at you.

“plus, it’s a bunny.”

“what?”

“it’s just a bunny.”

you blink. “just a bunny?”

“just a bunny.”

you sigh and reach out to ruffle his hair. “just a bunny, huh?”

“the bunny’s cute,” mash mumbles in response. he refills your cup of iced tea. “i don’t think he minds, nee-san.”

huh?

picking up the glass, you glance at lemon in confusion.

does he mean the man or the bunny?

lemon could only respond with a helpless smile back.

before mash could become even more sullen over his lack of communication/your lack of comprehension, you quickly hold the glass up to your lips with an appreciative smile.

“you’re right, kiddo, just a bunny,” you say, turning to look at the stranger, face cooled slightly by sips of the iced tea. “maybe they…”

your body stops dead in its track.

he—the man—is looking right back. not in the distance and not in your generally vicinity, not at your friend group and not just at you.

he is looking at you, in your eyes, his half-narrowed gaze meeting yours head on.

and you forget to breath.

they’re beautiful.

sleeping, predator like, a lounging puma in its jungle, they peer down to assess the stranger below.

even from a distance, you see it, clarity, an inquisitive flicker ticking in its dull, amber glow.

oh, this is outrageous.

a gentle nudge pushes at you, interrupting you from whatever that was.

“m-mash?” you turn back to him in surprise, haphazardly gulping down the lukewarm tea you’d been holding all along.

“stop staring, nee-san,” he says. “you were going to choke.”

the heat spreads like a rash.

“mash burndead, i will fling you–!”

lemon quickly cuts in.

“i don’t think he minds either!”

she very not so subtly, rather violently, nods in the stranger’s direction. it won’t be surprising if her head flung itself to the lake.

“what are you two–!”

but they look at you with such sickeningly sweet sparkles and angelic anticipation in their eyes.

your eyes narrow. “are you sure?”

they nod immediately. now, you’re worried that mash’s head might fly into the lake as well.

you bite your lip.

spurred by their boost of unwarranted confidence, you let out a short exhale.

“okay.” grabbing your phone from beside you, you get up. “none of this goes back to abel or abyss, especially that overprotective nepobaby.”

maybe they’re right. it’s a bunny; anyone would think a bunny is cute.

“nee-san, fighting!”

“nee-san, fighting.”

so it makes total sense to walk up to a stranger holding a bunny in the park and strike up a conversation because you think the bunny is cute.

right?

okay.

you start to walk over and almost immediately, you meet his eyes again. just as immediately, you fling your gaze to the far corner of the bench.

no, not okay.

walking up to this stranger with their bunny is totally different from walking up to a bunny and a stranger.

for one, his gaze is nothing like an average stranger’s.

soft, sullen, and slight, they’re sunlight between dense jungle leaves, faint and slanted, but once they notice you—when you notice them—you cannot miss them.

because dull, dark, and deeply stark, they’re no doubt watching and wanting to know why you’re approaching his part of the park.

you stop in front of his bench.

“um, hi,” you start with an introduction.

he stares up at you, expression unchanged.

you clear your throat, fingers tugging at the light linen of your shirt—you hope there’s no grass stains on them.

“i, um, we didn’t mean to stare and make you uncomfortable,” you continue with what you hope is a friendly, non-apocalyptical smile. “i just wanted to come over and let you know that i think the bunny is really cute and you shouldn’t pay those two people any mind!”

at this, and the slight widening of his eyes, you quickly backtrack.

“not that i’m telling you what you should do,” you explain, “it’s just really cool that you’re here with the bunny—your bunny?—i mean, of course it’s yours. i wasn’t insinuating that you’d steal someone else’s bunny, but yeah, um, it’s just cute, and i think kids—if there were any here and if you welcome it, they’d definitely come up and ask to pet it because it’s a—your—bunny and there’s nothing scary about your face—it’s actually really nice—goddamnit, um, ahh, just, umm…uhhhh–”

you take a deep breath in, terror marked front, centre, sideways, and screaming from your face.

at this point, you’re just looking anywhere but at him. you, in fact, are looking for a ditch.

a ditch, yes, a large ditch, any ditch really, for mash, lemon, then abel, abyss, and yourself, in that order. finn can have the honours of burying you all.

if there is no ditch, the lake would do too, and finn can do the honours to tossing you all in in succession.

as you’re mentally competing in a last-ditch effort, where’s waldo game of self-preservation, you hear it.

it’s quiet and barely discernible from an exhale, but he had let out a laugh, and it’s sudden and it’s gentle, low, and warm.

this is so unfair.

against the self-preservation instincts you’ve long forgone, you chance a look at him, teeth biting your lips.

his eyes are on yours, and this time, you catch the lift of his lips before they could fall.

but it’s unmistakeable, the a spark of amusement in his eyes.

you have to keep your teeth from digging in.

he’s beautiful.

you’d forgo the ditches and lake at this point. maybe you can just pretend to drop dead.

tearing your gaze from his away, you mumble a quiet apology. “sorry, i just think it’s really cute…”

“rayne.”

you swivel back to him in breakneck speed.

“huh?”

he clears his throat, “it’s rayne."

you flush deep.

it’s such a nice, steady voice. you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to bubble up.

“rayne,” you repeat, letting the name settle on your tongue. the pout of your lips curls up despite your best attempt.

by now, you’re almost entirely sure you look like you got run over and reconstructed by the mars rover, but your smile is soft as you bend over slightly to get a closer look at the bunny.

the owner is inviting you to conversation, so he wouldn’t mind, right?

“rayne-chan? rayne-kun?” no longer looking at him and with the reciprocated conversation, you ask a little more easily now.

the owner’s response comes after a beat. “…-kun.”

“rayne-kun,” you coo.

the black, round eyes blink at you.

if you weren’t so engrossed in your endeavour to not self-detonate under his softened gaze by avoiding it entirely, you’d probably realize that said softened gaze has become tinged with confusion and a wisp of that subtle, face-microwaving spark of amusement.

“rayne-kun,” you sigh, pouting at the way the bunny’s nose wrinkles. “so cute and docile, isn’t he?”

“yes.” there’s a soft chuckle that you just attribute to tenderness for his bunny.

but you can’t ignore the shiver that it pulled from you.

you shake your head slightly, pushing on. “how old is he?”

“twenty-five.”

“ah, wanna pet him. does he bite–?” your head snaps up. “excuse me?”

“twenty-five.”

“huh?” your smile is still apparent, but confusion washes over your face. “twenty-five?”

“yes.” the grin is tugging at his lips again.

“twenty-five.”

“yes, me.”

“i-i’m sorry?” you blubber, the ease that had finally returned to you snatched away in a mere moment’s notice.

“me, i’m twenty-five.”

“you’re...?”

“rayne, i’m rayne.”

your jaw drops.

as if it could not get any worse, he seals the deal with a tilt of his head. the lighter half of his hair falls softly across his gaze.

sweat starts breaking out at the nape of your neck, and heat plunges from your crown to your toes.

maybe you could convince mash to fling you in the lake right now because you definitely can’t wait for finn ames to arrive anymore.

as if this whole ordeal wasn’t already irreparably mortifying enough, he—rayne—explains, “i thought you were talking about me.”

“i-i was talking about the bunny!”

“i figured.”

so why didn’t your correct me earlier? you wanted to cry.

he lets out another soft exhale, the quiet shine of his eyes disappearing into small half-moons.

“i’m really sorry,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. “rayne-k…san?”

“‘rayne-kun’, but ‘rayne’ works fine too.” his hand runs over the bunny’s back. “this is maimelo.”

you both pause.

“the rabbit.”

“i...figured.”

“chan, but he’s a male bunny.”

“maimelo-chan, maimelo-chan…melo-chan?”

“my melody-chan, but melo-chan works too.”

you smile. “can i pet melo-chan?”

rayne takes his hand away. “please.”

you hesitantly reach for the bunny’s back.

the little grey head turns to nudge against your fingers, and you laugh.

“melo-chan so cute,” you coo, scratching the space under its round little head.

for a while, you are just content with letting your hand run across melo-chan’s supremely soft fur—it’s so dangerously obvious that rayne takes good care of his bunny.

and for a while, rayne is also just content with watching you pet melo-chan, who obviously likes you as well since the little grey menace is not giving you the death nibbles as he would any other non-rayne human, even rayne’s little brother.

and normally, rayne ames would be content to keep to his half-willed, half-fated world of solitude. but ever since he had noticed your looks and stares and then disgruntlement at the two pesky yappers, whether out of your own sense of injustice or your so-very-obvious streak of protectiveness, he had found himself curious to this older cousin of mash burndead’s that finn has been not-so-subtly telling him about.

otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped by this park after taking melo-chan to the vet.

seeing you now indulging melo-chan with both hands smooshing the rabbit’s cheeks, rayne can’t help the crinkle of mischief that alights once again.

some things can only be attributed to half-will, half-fate.

“and me?”

“hmm?”

“am i cute too?”

you head throws back in shock.

“i-i’m sorry?” you stutter, eyes wide at the man above you.

you must’ve heard wrong because there’s no way—

and maybe there is a way because you are confronted by a most devastatingly dangerous frown, a most heart-meltingly heartfelt shade of yellow, softness, and gold.

you immediately look down at melo-chan, where it’s safe.

rayne sighs, hand reaching to rest on the rabbit’s back. “you were talking about melo-chan,” he hides the lilt when you flinch, “but what about me?”

your mouth stays shut. you don’t know what to do, what to say.

your mind flashes to the lake again but could you really drown in peace when you’re being hunted by someone who’d even weaponize the harmless grey of their bunny?

because your brain cannot function with the almost playful tone he has adopted nor the sheer sense of his skin just through melo-chan’s fur.

“i…uhhh…”

“hmm?”

“i, umm…”

“mhm.”

“i–”

he lets out a soft chuckle. “apologies, i got carried–”

with a squeeze of your eyes, you chance a look up, voice is just above a whisper. “i think you’re cute too.”

and your award is immediate. rayne’s smile cuts through the sun.

“in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly, “i think you’re cute too.”

you stare at him, body reaching new heights on the mercury scale.

he laughs again. “by the way, are you scared of being bit?”

“huh?”

“biting. are you scare?”

“excuse me?”

“by melo-chan.” his head tilts again, and you’re just about blinded by the image. “or did you ask the question because you were thinking about being bitten by something else?”

“rayne!” your jaw drops. “of course not! there are children– okay, not there isn’t, but still!”

“‘of course not’...of being bit or of thinking about me–?”

“both!”

“understood,” he smiles. “do you want to hold him?”

your eyes narrow at him now. this rayne-kun is starting to become an well-meaning and suspiciously tongue-in-cheek character.

“he doesn’t bite. he likes you.”

“i wasn’t thinking about that!”

“oh?”

your face drops, scrambling to backtrack before—

“i don’t bite either,” he continues calmly without a hitch.

“i–”

“unless you want me to.”

“you–!”

“and i would be happy to oblige.”

“rayne–!”

“ames,” he supplies.

“rayne ame–!” your brain stops short. rayne ames? “a-ames…? finn ames?”

shifting over on the bench, rayne ames smiles at you softly, innocently. his eyes flit to behind you.

threading through melo-chan’s fur, he gently takes your hand in his. that amber flickers in the slant of the big cat’s eyes again.

“rayne…?”

the stranger in the park pulls you down to the bench beside him and lets your hand settle into his.

unable to contain the heat in his cheeks, he watches the trio cautiously approaching your part of the jungle.

“sit.” rayne’s hand squeezes your. “my brother and his friends have some explaining to do.”

and…she was the only other one here.

your eyes narrow at your near empty, much too warm glass of iced tea. where is finn ames when he was the one who had suggested this picnic?

and abel and abyss. where in the world is your own group of friends? you had all agreed to meet more than twenty minutes ago.

the parchment paper collapses in your fist.

“nee-san,” mash stretches out the last syllable, “please stop ignoring me.”

“ah, sorry. was just thinking.” your grip unfurls slightly and you toss it in your makeshift garbage bag. with a sigh, you turn to lemon. “lemon-chan?”

she beams, “leave it to me, nee-san!”

within three minutes of being introduced to lemon irvine, you’d realized that whenever and wherever it concerns your dark-haired cousin, she was more than happy to abandon any and all sense of fundamental logic, sense, and restraint. this inherently included immediately adopting mash’s way of addressing you.

but in times like these, you suppose that as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…

you give her a small smile back.

“mash-kun!” spurred on by what is surely her nee-san-in-law’s approval, lemon starts her task in pacifying the sole object of her affections. “it’s okay, he should be okay. just look!”

on cue, the three of you swivel to the far corner of the park, where not long after you had laid out the picnic gear, a man arrived and sat on the park bench with a real, living, breathing bunny on his lap.

currently, this stranger on the bench seems completely oblivious to the fact that a group of similarly strange strangers is staring him down in concern. it’s like he existed in his own impenetrable jungle of bunny fur and main character park benches, basking under the afternoon sun even as three pairs of eyes are homed in on him from under the biggest, tallest, and only oak tree in the park.

his hand steadily pets the grey bunny.

that means he should be…fine?

lemon sighs in relief. “see, mash-kun? he’s–”

she is cut abruptly short.

the three of you watch the man lowers his head.

as horror dawns on lemon’s face, the man takes a visible breath and lifts his hand from the bunny’s back. he closes his eyes. the sunlight seems to dim a little.

mash snaps back to you.

lemon also looks at you, panicked. “um, he’s fine? maybe not? uh, umm, n-nee-san? can mash-kun go beat them up?”

“uh,” you pry your eyes away from the man and back at your juniors. “no, that’d be assault,” you shrug. “even if it’s deserved.”

mash visibly deflates, and lemon holds out the half-consumed box of cream buffs in consolation.

you let out a sigh.

you are so going to skin abel and abyss for flaking last minute.

you glance at the stranger again.

the only silver lining…

you can’t help the warmth that canvasses the back of your neck.

middle part, black on the left and yellow on the right, his face is strong and soft features at once. handsome.

you squint in concentration.

he looks to be around the same age as you, abel, and abyss, but the way he carries himself…there is an unmissable, imposing apathy to him, and while it certainly makes him look wiser and more unforgiving than all of you combined, it’s not scary, absolutely not.

it’s that distinct taste of solitude that lifts him into an air of divinity, an untouchable aloofness, which appears just a bit more weighted after the two assholes left.

not that you can be absolutely certain with how cool his default expression has been since he sat down.

not that you’ve been watching him.

and not that you’ve been keeping track.

he’s just eye-catching. in what universe would eyes not be caught by a man sitting with a bunny in the park, you reason.

it’s beyond the fact that the man happens to be handsome, beautiful, and totally your type.

no, it’s only because it’s a man with a bunny sitting on the park bench.

right, the stranger with the bunny just piques your curiosity.

“nee-san.”

“hmm?”

“you should go talk to him.”

you glance at mash. “huh?”

“you should go talk to him.”

the warmth quickly turns into heat. “what?”

“you’re staring,” he explains in between bites of his beloved, homemade cream puff. “a lot.”

“excuse me?” you have half a mind to hit him with the five-litre thermos of iced tea.

“nee-san’s been staring at him since he sat down,” your baby cousin continues, completely clueless to the contortions crawling through the stages of shock on your face. “and when the two guys were talking about him, you look like you were going to fling them–”

“keep talking and i’ll fling you into the lake.”

mash visibly deflates again. “but nee-san, there’s nothing wrong with looking. you’re the one who said that i should do what i want,” he mutters.

a pang of guilt stabs at you.

“plus, it’s a bunny.”

“what?”

“it’s just a bunny.”

you blink. “just a bunny?”

“just a bunny.”

you sigh and reach out to ruffle his hair. “just a bunny, huh?”

“the bunny’s cute,” mash mumbles in response. he refills your cup of iced tea. “i don’t think he minds, nee-san.”

huh?

picking up the glass, you glance at lemon in confusion.

does he mean the man or the bunny?

lemon could only respond with a helpless smile back.

before mash could become even more sullen over his lack of communication/your lack of comprehension, you quickly hold the glass up to your lips with an appreciative smile.

“you’re right, kiddo, just a bunny,” you say, turning to look at the stranger, face cooled slightly by sips of the iced tea. “maybe they…”

your body stops dead in its track.

he—the man—is looking right back. not in the distance and not in your generally vicinity, not at your friend group and not just at you.

he is looking at you, in your eyes, his half-narrowed gaze meeting yours head on.

and you forget to breath.

they’re beautiful.

sleeping, predator like, a lounging puma in its jungle, they peer down to assess the stranger below.

even from a distance, you see it, clarity, an inquisitive flicker ticking in its dull, amber glow.

oh, this is outrageous.

a gentle nudge pushes at you, interrupting you from whatever that was.

“m-mash?” you turn back to him in surprise, haphazardly gulping down the lukewarm tea you’d been holding all along.

“stop staring, nee-san,” he says. “you were going to choke.”

the heat spreads like a rash.

“mash burndead, i will fling you–!”

lemon quickly cuts in.

“i don’t think he minds either!”

she very not so subtly, rather violently, nods in the stranger’s direction. it won’t be surprising if her head flung itself to the lake.

“what are you two–!”

but they look at you with such sickeningly sweet sparkles and angelic anticipation in their eyes.

your eyes narrow. “are you sure?”

they nod immediately. now, you’re worried that mash’s head might fly into the lake as well.

you bite your lip.

spurred by their boost of unwarranted confidence, you let out a short exhale.

“okay.” grabbing your phone from beside you, you get up. “none of this goes back to abel or abyss, especially that overprotective nepobaby.”

maybe they’re right. it’s a bunny; anyone would think a bunny is cute.

“nee-san, fighting!”

“nee-san, fighting.”

so it makes total sense to walk up to a stranger holding a bunny in the park and strike up a conversation because you think the bunny is cute.

right?

okay.

you start to walk over and almost immediately, you meet his eyes again. just as immediately, you fling your gaze to the far corner of the bench.

no, not okay.

walking up to this stranger with their bunny is totally different from walking up to a bunny and a stranger.

for one, his gaze is nothing like an average stranger’s.

soft, sullen, and slight, they’re sunlight between dense jungle leaves, faint and slanted, but once they notice you—when you notice them—you cannot miss them.

because dull, dark, and deeply stark, they’re no doubt watching and wanting to know why you’re approaching his part of the park.

you stop in front of his bench.

“um, hi,” you start with an introduction.

he stares up at you, expression unchanged.

you clear your throat, fingers tugging at the light linen of your shirt—you hope there’s no grass stains on them.

“i, um, we didn’t mean to stare and make you uncomfortable,” you continue with what you hope is a friendly, non-apocalyptical smile. “i just wanted to come over and let you know that i think the bunny is really cute and you shouldn’t pay those two people any mind!”

at this, and the slight widening of his eyes, you quickly backtrack.

“not that i’m telling you what you should do,” you explain, “it’s just really cool that you’re here with the bunny—your bunny?—i mean, of course it’s yours. i wasn’t insinuating that you’d steal someone else’s bunny, but yeah, um, it’s just cute, and i think kids—if there were any here and if you welcome it, they’d definitely come up and ask to pet it because it’s a—your—bunny and there’s nothing scary about your face—it’s actually really nice—goddamnit, um, ahh, just, umm…uhhhh–”

you take a deep breath in, terror marked front, centre, sideways, and screaming from your face.

at this point, you’re just looking anywhere but at him. you, in fact, are looking for a ditch.

a ditch, yes, a large ditch, any ditch really, for mash, lemon, then abel, abyss, and yourself, in that order. finn can have the honours of burying you all.

if there is no ditch, the lake would do too, and finn can do the honours to tossing you all in in succession.

as you’re mentally competing in a last-ditch effort, where’s waldo game of self-preservation, you hear it.

it’s quiet and barely discernible from an exhale, but he had let out a laugh, and it’s sudden and it’s gentle, low, and warm.

this is so unfair.

against the self-preservation instincts you’ve long forgone, you chance a look at him, teeth biting your lips.

his eyes are on yours, and this time, you catch the lift of his lips before they could fall.

but it’s unmistakeable, the a spark of amusement in his eyes.

you have to keep your teeth from digging in.

he’s beautiful.

you’d forgo the ditches and lake at this point. maybe you can just pretend to drop dead.

tearing your gaze from his away, you mumble a quiet apology. “sorry, i just think it’s really cute…”

“rayne.”

you swivel back to him in breakneck speed.

“huh?”

he clears his throat, “it’s rayne."

you flush deep.

it’s such a nice, steady voice. you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to bubble up.

“rayne,” you repeat, letting the name settle on your tongue. the pout of your lips curls up despite your best attempt.

by now, you’re almost entirely sure you look like you got run over and reconstructed by the mars rover, but your smile is soft as you bend over slightly to get a closer look at the bunny.

the owner is inviting you to conversation, so he wouldn’t mind, right?

“rayne-chan? rayne-kun?” no longer looking at him and with the reciprocated conversation, you ask a little more easily now.

the owner’s response comes after a beat. “…-kun.”

“rayne-kun,” you coo.

the black, round eyes blink at you.

if you weren’t so engrossed in your endeavour to not self-detonate under his softened gaze by avoiding it entirely, you’d probably realize that said softened gaze has become tinged with confusion and a wisp of that subtle, face-microwaving spark of amusement.

“rayne-kun,” you sigh, pouting at the way the bunny’s nose wrinkles. “so cute and docile, isn’t he?”

“yes.” there’s a soft chuckle that you just attribute to tenderness for his bunny.

but you can’t ignore the shiver that it pulled from you.

you shake your head slightly, pushing on. “how old is he?”

“twenty-five.”

“ah, wanna pet him. does he bite–?” your head snaps up. “excuse me?”

“twenty-five.”

“huh?” your smile is still apparent, but confusion washes over your face. “twenty-five?”

“yes.” the grin is tugging at his lips again.

“twenty-five.”

“yes, me.”

“i-i’m sorry?” you blubber, the ease that had finally returned to you snatched away in a mere moment’s notice.

“me, i’m twenty-five.”

“you’re...?”

“rayne, i’m rayne.”

your jaw drops.

as if it could not get any worse, he seals the deal with a tilt of his head. the lighter half of his hair falls softly across his gaze.

sweat starts breaking out at the nape of your neck, and heat plunges from your crown to your toes.

maybe you could convince mash to fling you in the lake right now because you definitely can’t wait for finn ames to arrive anymore.

as if this whole ordeal wasn’t already irreparably mortifying enough, he—rayne—explains, “i thought you were talking about me.”

“i-i was talking about the bunny!”

“i figured.”

so why didn’t your correct me earlier? you wanted to cry.

he lets out another soft exhale, the quiet shine of his eyes disappearing into small half-moons.

“i’m really sorry,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. “rayne-k…san?”

“‘rayne-kun’, but ‘rayne’ works fine too.” his hand runs over the bunny’s back. “this is maimelo.”

you both pause.

“the rabbit.”

“i...figured.”

“chan, but he’s a male bunny.”

“maimelo-chan, maimelo-chan…melo-chan?”

“my melody-chan, but melo-chan works too.”

you smile. “can i pet melo-chan?”

rayne takes his hand away. “please.”

you hesitantly reach for the bunny’s back.

the little grey head turns to nudge against your fingers, and you laugh.

“melo-chan so cute,” you coo, scratching the space under its round little head.

for a while, you are just content with letting your hand run across melo-chan’s supremely soft fur—it’s so dangerously obvious that rayne takes good care of his bunny.

and for a while, rayne is also just content with watching you pet melo-chan, who obviously likes you as well since the little grey menace is not giving you the death nibbles as he would any other non-rayne human, even rayne’s little brother.

and normally, rayne ames would be content to keep to his half-willed, half-fated world of solitude. but ever since he had noticed your looks and stares and then disgruntlement at the two pesky yappers, whether out of your own sense of injustice or your so-very-obvious streak of protectiveness, he had found himself curious to this older cousin of mash burndead’s that finn has been not-so-subtly telling him about.

otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped by this park after taking melo-chan to the vet.

seeing you now indulging melo-chan with both hands smooshing the rabbit’s cheeks, rayne can’t help the crinkle of mischief that alights once again.

some things can only be attributed to half-will, half-fate.

“and me?”

“hmm?”

“am i cute too?”

you head throws back in shock.

“i-i’m sorry?” you stutter, eyes wide at the man above you.

you must’ve heard wrong because there’s no way—

and maybe there is a way because you are confronted by a most devastatingly dangerous frown, a most heart-meltingly heartfelt shade of yellow, softness, and gold.

you immediately look down at melo-chan, where it’s safe.

rayne sighs, hand reaching to rest on the rabbit’s back. “you were talking about melo-chan,” he hides the lilt when you flinch, “but what about me?”

your mouth stays shut. you don’t know what to do, what to say.

your mind flashes to the lake again but could you really drown in peace when you’re being hunted by someone who’d even weaponize the harmless grey of their bunny?

because your brain cannot function with the almost playful tone he has adopted nor the sheer sense of his skin just through melo-chan’s fur.

“i…uhhh…”

“hmm?”

“i, umm…”

“mhm.”

“i–”

he lets out a soft chuckle. “apologies, i got carried–”

with a squeeze of your eyes, you chance a look up, voice is just above a whisper. “i think you’re cute too.”

and your award is immediate. rayne’s smile cuts through the sun.

“in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly, “i think you’re cute too.”

you stare at him, body reaching new heights on the mercury scale.

he laughs again. “by the way, are you scared of being bit?”

“huh?”

“biting. are you scare?”

“excuse me?”

“by melo-chan.” his head tilts again, and you’re just about blinded by the image. “or did you ask the question because you were thinking about being bitten by something else?”

“rayne!” your jaw drops. “of course not! there are children– okay, not there isn’t, but still!”

“‘of course not’...of being bit or of thinking about me–?”

“both!”

“understood,” he smiles. “do you want to hold him?”

your eyes narrow at him now. this rayne-kun is starting to become an well-meaning and suspiciously tongue-in-cheek character.

“he doesn’t bite. he likes you.”

“i wasn’t thinking about that!”

“oh?”

your face drops, scrambling to backtrack before—

“i don’t bite either,” he continues calmly without a hitch.

“i–”

“unless you want me to.”

“you–!”

“and i would be happy to oblige.”

“rayne–!”

“ames,” he supplies.

“rayne ame–!” your brain stops short. rayne ames? “a-ames…? finn ames?”

shifting over on the bench, rayne ames smiles at you softly, innocently. his eyes flit to behind you.

threading through melo-chan’s fur, he gently takes your hand in his. that amber flickers in the slant of the big cat’s eyes again.

“rayne…?”

the stranger in the park pulls you down to the bench beside him and lets your hand settle into his.

unable to contain the heat in his cheeks, he watches the trio cautiously approaching your part of the jungle.

“sit.” rayne’s hand squeezes your. “my brother and his friends have some explaining to do.”