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The Time When It Almost Rained
"Is cloudy today," Boris mused as the descended out of the bus and onto the dirt road.
"Do you think it might rain?" Theo asked. He took the umbrella when Boris pulled it out of his jacket— it was his turn to hold it.
"Rain?" Boris laughed sharply. "No. No rain here. You see land? How dry?" He gestured to the dying patches of what may have once been tall grass, yellowed weeds sticking out of the Earth. Theo smiled a bit, and stuck his free hand in his pocket.
"Very," he replied. "Sorry. I'm just more used to New York. It rained all the time there."
"You miss it?" Boris asked, and Theo shrugged, absently tilting the umbrella towards the taller boy as his mind wandered. He hardly noticed when those long, slender fingers drifted over and steadied it, lingering to endure it stayed upright and covered them both.
"Sometimes," he murmured. "I liked the rain." Until that day, he thought, but he didn't say it aloud. Boris surely wouldn't care.
"Then we make it rain!" Boris said suddenly, grabbing the umbrella and stepping away. "You better hurry up, Potter. You get soaked if you don't come back under this umbrella."
Theo stared for a moment, dumbfounded, glancing around at the dry, acrid surroundings, then up at the cloudy sky. He returned his gaze to Boris, who was grinning, free hand reaching out, palm up, to catch imaginary raindrops. He started to smile.
Theo walked over, and Boris moved away again, holding the umbrella up higher. For a minute, Theo could imagine the feeling of the rain on the back of his neck. He could see the spatter of droplets on his glasses, blurring his vision slightly. He leaped forward, grasping for the umbrella's stem, but Boris was quicker, and his legs were longer. He laughed, dancing away and turning his face to the sky as he lowered the covering layer, spinning in the imaginary storm they had created.
"Can't catch me, Potter!" He cried distantly, and Theo ran after him, hair beginning to plaster to his face and a smile starting to spread. Boris slowed enough for Theo to just barely graze his sleeve with his fingertips, then pulled away again, cackling. Theo laughed, pure joy beginning to bubble in his stomach for the first time in what felt like years.
He didn't catch the boy until they were on his doorstep. Boris lifted the umbrella again, grabbed Theo's arm and yanked him underneath, holding on tight.
The rain disappeared— the air was once again dry, and Theo's glasses were clear— his hair was messy, but no longer dripping with precipitation. They breathed together, faint giggles beginning to fade.
"Here you are, Potter," Boris said. "Under this umbrella, safe from rain." A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and he tilted his head, letting go of Theo's sleeve slowly.
