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Rye - pt. 4 - YAOI

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Part Four


"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind, I'll follow you into the dark." - DCFC

* * *

The sun broke through the clouds violently, shattering the fists of mist that clung to the sidewalks. It was nearly midday now, and this was the first time the sun had shown itself since the previous morning. Newscasters had been warning heavily about a breaching storm that teetered along the horizon. It would be the first rainfall of the season, and the hovering clouds promised the storm to be an unforgettable one.

Rye tilted his head back to watch as the sun was swallowed once again by the clouds. He could actually hear the thunder not far off; the bristling power of the angry claps making his ears swivel anxiously. He shifted from his position atop the faded orange ladder he’d taken from the supply closet on the ground floor of the apartment flat, his knuckles white from his grip on the bottom banister of the balcony.

After seeing Jared off that morning he’d finished cleaning the house, still unsure what to do with the numerous papers and canvases that spotted the loft. It was too early to start dinner, so he’d turned his sights on the balcony that overlooked the small courtyard below. Immediately he’d spotted several problems that would be hazardous in the upcoming storm. The gutter that ran along the bottom of the balcony was choked and clogged with leaves and grit. One good rain and the balcony would flood for sure.

Balancing the wash-bucket he’d found in the closet on his knee, Rye wove his fingers through a knot of leaves in the gutter and tugged it loose. He’d nearly cleared the entire length of the gutter; only a few more feet to go. Leaning precariously away from the safety of the ladder rungs, Rye slid his hand along the bottom of the gutter in search of more clots. He was just about to call it good when a voice from below made the hairs on his neck rise, startling him to the point where he nearly fell.

“Rye!” Jared stared up at him from where he stood on the ground, a look of disbelief and worry etched in his brow, “What the hell are you doing up there? You’re going to fall!” Rye clutched the banister tightly, another clap of thunder sounding in the not-so-distance. “The gutter was clogged,” he called, gingerly stepping down from the top rung, “I’m almost done cleaning it.”

Jared ran a hand through his hair; letting the breath he’d been holding go in a sudden rush. “Forget it. Just…come down.” Rye flicked his tail, faintly wondering if Jared was angry with him as he descended the shuddering ladder with ease. When he was in reach Jared reached up and looped an arm around his waist, swiftly lifting him back to the ground and releasing him just as fast. “Come on,” he muttered, taking the ladder and allowing it to fall to the ground, “the storm’s about to break, let’s get inside.”

* * *

Just as Jared shut and locked the French doors of the balcony, the rain began to fall. The television blared loudly over the din of the storm, its stuttering screen showing pictures of a live broadcast of the gale as it rolled over the city. Rye watched with wide eyes, his ears laid flat and his knees tucked under his chin. Suddenly the loft seemed horribly exposed to the elements as opposed to the storm shelter his previous owner kept in the basement of the Bed & Breakfast.

Jared sat down next to him, a bit closer than he normally would, and turned the volume up to the loudest setting. They watched the live coverage in fearful silence for several minutes, trying their best to ignore the violent shuddering of the windows a few feet away. Rye shifted, just about to volunteer to start on dinner…when the power blinked out. They both froze, Rye in fear, and Jared in annoyance.

“I guess its cereal for dinner,” Jared sighed, getting to his feet and shuffling across the darkened room. Rye sniffed, flinching as another roll of thunder sounded, “I’m not hungry, anyway.” A pinpoint of light flickered on, the candle Jared had fished out of the cupboard wavering in his hand. He glanced at the rattling balcony windows and then to Rye, who was sitting very still on the couch with his eyes closed.

“Hey,” Jared crouched next to him, brow furrowed, “what’s wrong?”

Rye’s ears flicked, standing ramrod straight atop his head. “Nothing,” he said quickly, “nothing…at all.” A flash of lightning drowned out the thin light of the candle for the briefest of moments, drawing an involuntary whimper from Rye’s lips as the thunder followed. A smile tugged at the corner of Jared’s mouth, his hand finding the younger boy’s in the dark.

“Here,” he pressed the candle into Rye’s palm, closing his fingers around the smooth stick with a gentle squeeze, “you okay? Listen, I don’t think it’s very safe for you to sleep out here tonight; the balcony windows aren’t very stable. You can take my bed…I’ll probably be up all night working anyway.” Rye gripped the candle tightly and nodded, his eyes still closed tightly to ward away the storm.

* * *

Rye curled his toes against the sheets, pulling the covers well over his chin as he watched the light dance on the far wall. He could hear Jared somewhere behind him, painting by candlelight in order to meet the University deadline. He’d been working a lot lately…always busy. Ever since he’d seen Rye’s scars he’d been oddly isolated…distant somehow. It had been a few days now and Rye was beginning to worry.

He’s disgusted with me.

Rye clamped his hands over his ears and pushed the thought away.

He hates you…

* * *

Jared placed a palm against the corner of the canvas, leaning heavily against the frame as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could still hear the storm, though it had lessened some; the power had even come back on a few minutes ago. He only kept the lights off so not to disturb Rye.

Twisting the paintbrush in his fingers, Jared turned his eyes back to the painting, tracing the lines and contours with his fingertip. He hadn’t meant for the painting to turn out like this. Really it was as if…it had just…drawn itself…

Setting the brush down, Jared ran a hand through his bedraggled hair and shuffled around the canvas. He’d planned on staying up all night to finish his work, but the urge to sleep had proven too great. He slid out of his shoes as quietly as he could, watching the steady rise and fall of Rye’s chest in the measured breaths of sleep. The bed creaked when he knelt at the edge, but the younger boy remained undisturbed.

Jared leaned forward on his palm, lightly touching Rye’s arm and half hoping that he would wake. Outside, a thunder tolled like the brass bells of a church, distant…hushed. Steadying his breaths, Jared lightly pressed his lips to Rye’s jaw, feeling the cold of the other’s skin. Still, he didn’t wake…

Shaking his head, Jared pulled the covers over his legs and lay back, closing his eyes against the throbbing of the storm. Briefly, the lighting illuminated the painting he’d left on the support.

Rye’s face smiled back on the canvas.
Chuu! ^.^

Sorry I haven't updated in so long. ^^; Holidays are time suckers. Anway, now that I'm on Christmas break I'll be updating more often! Yay! :w00t:

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FlyingTigress's avatar
whee! :boogie: gah, I haven't commented on this yet? :bleh: whoops ^^; great chapter ;) Poor Rye, and just have to say this, Awwwww! :aww:
I love rain :XD: I'd probably be running around outside getting struck by lightning... but then we'd have no story would we? Glad you chose Rye and not me :rofl: