I just read that Natsume is scared of thunderstorms, could we maybe see something about that please?
Consider this the beginning of a mini
nishinatsu series :’)
120% because there was talk on the discord about this pairing and now it’s stuck in my head rip
Tsuji may have assigned Satoru and Natsume out of turn cleaning duties to get back at them for being chatty, in the passive aggressive way of all overly-cheerful class representatives, but Satoru doesn’t really mind. Hanging out with Natsume beats going home any day—and since it’s more or less his fault they’re in trouble, he can’t exactly complain to his friend about it without sounding like a total heel.
“This is the worst,” Satoru says with feeling, hauling the heavier of two trash cans outside. “Tsuji’s got in for me, I swear.”
He can’t complain more than usual, anyway.
Dumping his half of the trash, he turns to glance at his quiet companion. Natsume is next to him but he may as well be miles away. The half-empty bin is hanging loosely from his hands and his head is tipped back, round eyes trained without blinking on the sky. Satoru follows his gaze, nonplussed.
There are thunderheads rolling in, dark and foreboding as they build up in a gray sky. He hadn’t noticed before, but now that he’s paying attention, the air definitely smells like rain.
“Oh, wow,” Satoru says, eyebrows shooting up. “It’s really gonna storm. No wonder my brother bullied me into taking his umbrella this morning.”
Plucking the trashcan out of Natsume’s hands, he dumps it for him, then stacks it inside his own empty bin. Natsume seems out of it, but Satoru is no stranger to his vacant moods—the guy zones out a lot—so he simply hefts the stacked bins under one arm, grabs Natsume’s hand in his free one, and leads the way back inside.
“If we hurry, we can make it home without getting too wet,” he says, all but dragging his unresistant friend up the stairs. “I mean, there’s no way we can beat the rain, but—you have an umbrella, right? I can walk you home with mine if you don’t.”
“No, that’s okay,” Natsume finally replies. “I have mine with me.”
He’s keeping pace with Satoru on his own now, but he doesn’t tug his hand away. Satoru takes that as implicit permission to keep holding it. The only sounds that accompany them as they run through empty hallways are the echoed stamping of rapid footfalls and the faraway rumble of approaching thunder.
In a little under ten minutes, they’re back at the front doors. Satoru is shoving his school slippers in his locker and yanking on his sneakers in their place, a little out of breath from tearing through the school—and glad no staff had caught them, because that would have given Tsuji a whole heap of disciplinary material to work with if he was still in a bad mood tomorrow.
“Alright,” he says with a triumphant grin, as a light rain begins to fall, “it’s barely started out there. Come on, Natsume, and we can—”
He trails off as his eyes move from the doorway to his classmate. Natsume is still in his uwabaki, jack and umbrella bundled under his arm. He hasn’t even stepped down into the entry area yet, lingering on the raised floor a few feet away, with what looks like absolutely no intention of taking another step.
“Go on without me,” he says with a smile. “I forgot something.”
Satoru blinks at him. “What? Just go get it real quick, I can wait.”
“I might have to look for it,” he deflects easily. “It could be awhile. You should go ahead though, before it gets too bad out there.”
His expression is empty and serene. It stirs something uneasy to life in the pit of Satoru’s stomach.