ˇ ⋆ ╱ orchestrated, wet, verboten - c. sturniolo
the deck smells like damp wood and weed.
chris is sitting sideways in the chair, one foot hooked under the other leg, hoodie pulled up even though it’s not cold. you’re on the step beside him, knees drawn up, lighter resting in your palm while you watch the end of the blunt burn down.
"you’re hogging it," he says.
you glance up. "you literally had it for like five minutes."
"because you talk too much."
you scoff but hand it over anyway. his fingers brush yours, familiar and absent-minded. you’ve been together long enough that touches like that don’t mean anything on their own anymore. but tonight, everything feels slightly off. like something’s humming under your skin.
he inhales, coughs immediately, and groans. "every time."
"you’d think you’d learn."
"i don’t want to learn," he says. "that would ruin the experience."
you smile, watching smoke curl out of his mouth. the backyard is dark except for the deck light and the faint glow from the sliding door behind you. the house is quiet. nick and matt are out. no cameras. no noise. just this.
you lean back on your hands. "it’s weird how quiet it is."
chris nods. "yeah. i keep expecting someone to walk out and ruin it."
you laugh softly. "god, you sound like nick."
"hey. don’t insult me like that."
thunder rumbles in the distance, low and drawn out. you look up at the sky. thick clouds, no stars.
"it’s gonna rain," you say.
chris hands the blunt back. "good. i like rain."
he grins, then quiets again. his gaze drifts back to the yard, unfocused. you know that look. the one that means he’s thinking too hard.
"you’re doing the ‘nothing’ thing."
he sighs. "i just… i don’t know. everything’s been loud lately. online. in my head."
he glances down at you. "you okay?"
"yeah," you say, automatically. then you pause. "...mostly."
he doesn’t push, just shifts closer so your shoulder rests against his leg. it’s a small thing, but it settles something in you.
the first raindrops hit the deck a few seconds later.
chris watches the rain start to fall, slow at first, then heavier. "we should probably go inside."
he looks down at you. "you wanna get soaked?"
he raises an eyebrow. "you’re insane."
the rain picks up fast, drenching the deck in seconds. you laugh when cold water splashes against your legs, soaking through your shorts.
"okay, okay," you say. "now we go inside."
but chris stands instead of heading for the door. he steps out into the rain, hoodie darkening instantly.
you stare at him. "chris."
"you're gonna catch a cold."
he grins, rain dripping off his nose. "worth it."
you stand too, rolling your eyes. "you're such a child."
"come on,: he says, holding a hand out. "two minutes."
you hesitate, then take his hand.
the rain is freezing. you yelp as it soaks through your shirt, hair plastering to your face. chris laughs, pulling you closer so you’re chest to chest, both of you soaked and grinning.
"this was a bad idea," you say.
"yeah." he agrees. "but you're smiling."
you are. and you hate how fast your heart is beating for something this stupid.
thunder cracks overhead, louder this time. you flinch, instinctively grabbing onto him. his arms come around you without thinking.
for a second, neither of you moves.
rain runs down his face, his eyelashes clumped together, hair hanging in his eyes. you’ve seen him a thousand times, but right now he looks different. less guarded. less careful.
"you good?" he asks quietly.
"yeah." you say. "just... cold."
there’s a pause. not awkward. just loaded.
then he leans down and kisses you.
it’s familiar. easy. but there’s something heavier under it tonight, like all the stuff you haven’t said is pressing up between you. you kiss him back, hands gripping his hoodie, rain dripping down both of you.
"okay," you mumble against his mouth. "inside. now."
he laughs softly and pulls away, grabbing your hand again and dragging you toward the door.
inside, everything feels warmer instantly. the house smells like rain and weed and something domestic. you kick off your shoes, peeling your wet shirt over your head.
chris watches you for a second too long.
"nothing," he says, but his voice is rougher now.
you head toward the bedroom, towel abandoned somewhere along the way. he follows, shutting the door behind him.
you both stand there for a second, dripping onto the floor.
"this is a mess." you say.
"we'll deal with it later."
he steps closer. you can feel the heat from his body, the shift in the air. this isn’t new. you’ve been here before. but tonight feels more charged, like everything is turned up just slightly too high.
"hey," he says, softer now. "you okay?"
you nod. "yeah. i want this."
the rest happens without rush. wet clothes pushed aside, hands warm and familiar, mouths finding each other like muscle memory. there’s laughter when someone bumps into the bed frame, quiet curses when the sheets are still cold.
chris presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard. "god, i love you."
when you end up tangled together under the covers, it’s slow and close and unspoken. no rush, no performance. just the kind of intimacy that comes from knowing each other too well to pretend.
the rain keeps falling outside, steady now instead of wild.
later, you’re lying on his chest, tracing circles with your finger.
"you ever think about how weird it is," you say, "that the world feels completely different when it’s just us?"
he kisses the top of your head. "we're okay, right?"
you look up at him. "yeah. we are."
outside, the storm starts to calm.
inside, it’s quiet again - but this time, it feels right.
a/n ; lowkey proud of thisss 😛
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