someone requested cute fluffy CD which is sorta difficult considering they pretty much hate each other so sorry if this isn't quite as cute as you wanted orz
C-ta reclines in his seat. The computer screen in front of him shows A-ya, sitting alone at his desk. Yesterday, C-ta had implanted yet another hidden camera, this one resting on the wooden molding above his door, so he’s using this opportunity to make sure it works.
His parents are out at the moment, away at some engineering convention. Maybe they’d bring home some more cool stuff (they always did). Perhaps a tracking device he could slip into A-ya’s bag so he’d always know where he was.
Not that A-ya really went out much. Besides, it’s been stormy weather for the past few weeks, which was okay. A-ya's a big fan of rain, he knows, and anything A-ya was a fan of, so is he.
A-ya sneezes, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. If C-ta were there, he could make him so warm--
There’s a knock at the door. C-ta pauses. What kind of insane person walks outside in this kind of weather?
Oh. D-ne, of course.
“I got caught in the rain. Sorry.” She flips the wet hair out of her face, the wet strands narrowly missing his face, and kicks off her sopping purple flats, pushing past C-ta to enter his house without a second thought. Water drips from her skirt onto the floor, water he’ll have to mop up later before his parents come home.
He’s not amused.
C-ta sighs, running a hand through his messy brown curls. “What do you want, D-ne?”
She swivels around, hands on her hips, a haughty smile that he wants to punch off her face on her lips. “I was on the way home from the library when it started to rain. I just need a place to stay for a while. You just happened to be nearby.”
Which is likely only 40% of the story. She’s probably-- no, C-ta can say with a 100% certainty that D-ne was trying to annoy him. Or looking for blackmail material, after The Incident Last Week Which Must Never Ever Be Mentioned Ever Again. Well, C-ta supposes that he’d probably try to do the same thing, if he had her address—which he doesn’t because unlike her, he doesn’t stick to the “keep his friends close and his enemies closer” principle. A-ya’s way more important than some revenge-seeking wimp.
“I hope you won’t send me home to walk in the rain, friend.”
We’re not friends, he wants to say. But what would be the point? It's not like she'd listen, that condescending jerk.
She starts chattering happily, more to herself than anything because he sure isn’t listening and she knows it. D-ne strips off her soaking wet cardigan and hangs it to dry on the back of a wooden chair as if she owns the place. The tank top she wears underneath is more or less dry underneath, but her hair drips with rain water.
He blinks very stupidly when he hears her mention his name. “Hey, C-ta, could I have a towel?”
No, not really. But she could probably unleash a tidal wave in his house if she shook her head, so C-ta swallows his pride and dashes to the linen closet to get a towel. Stupid girls and their stupid waist long hair.
D-ne smirks when he hands her the towel. She rubs it over her hair, which doesn’t help much, but it’s not like he’s going to offer her his hair dryer (he doesn’t have a hair dryer).
D-ne flops onto the couch, stifling a yawn. C-ta hopes his parents wouldn't question the damp spot on the couch when they come home after he kicked D-ne and her stupid waist long, dripping wet hair out.
It takes him a moment to realize that he's staring rather intently at his classmate's lying form. But he isn’t going to just stand there and watch her like some heterosexual creep, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Hey, D-ne, want some hot chocolate?”
C-ta has the sudden urge to put a bullet in his skull, but he resists, mainly because Japan outlaws the possession of handguns by civilians. Why did he—
“I’d love some hot chocolate. Thank you.” She doesn’t even bother looking up. Rude.
But he makes the damn hot chocolate anyway, because he was already planning to make some for himself (he insists) anyway before she barged in. And he makes it the way he likes it, with a generous drizzling of chocolate sauce, a dollop of whipped cream, and five mini marshmallows in each cup.
He takes a moment to admire his work, because he’s about to give half of it away to his least favorite person in the world.
He brings the two mugs over to the couch. She’d better be thankful, or he’s going to—
D-ne’s eyes are closed, hand draped across her stomach as her chest rises and falls to steady rhythm.
She’s asleep.
C-ta curses under his breath as he gently kicks the sofa before slurping down the contents of both cups. He was going to physically kick D-ne out of the house as soon as the rain let up.