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rain. soulsilvershipping - 3000 words library au it was gloomy here, so here is my gloomy fic

The wind chimes tingle as they crash into one another, jingling in symphonic rhythm with the leaves scraping across the concrete sidewalk. She stares at the sky, standing from the open doorway of her modest home. It is the first time in months warm weather has come, but of course it must wash away the harshness of winter first with a shower. The warmth begins to slowly fly away with the breeze, a breeze beckoning danger and thunder with dark clouds creeping into the sky from the east. Goosebumps travel up her legs to the rest of her body as she feels the temperature change. It happens to be her day to reshelve books at the library. With a slight shrug of her left shoulder, she shakes her head in quiet surrender.

“Must be my lucky day,” she says to herself, stepping back inside to slip her red rain boots on. “It’s going to downpour.” Her slender and soft fingers reach for the keys on the hook and she heads out her door. A quick lock to her entrance, she begins speed-walking to her local library. She does not have a rain jacket, never found the time to buy one. She does not have an umbrella, never received it after letting someone borrow it.

However, that last part would be her fault, entirely. Last year, around this time, she handed her umbrella off to a stranger. She spent the day with her mother who drove her home in the weather, took notice of the unfortunate soul soaked in the storm, and demanded her mother pull over. She rushed out to hand the umbrella away and then ran back to her mother. She wiped the rain from her face and hair as they continued on with their drive.

“I should really buy a new one!” She exclaimed to herself in admonition. Then, with another shrug of her right shoulder, she smiles. She had helped someone. Although her umbrella was a little rough around the edges, with yellow tape supporting the bottom handle, she could have made that person’s day. Will she see that umbrella again? Perhaps not, but a kindness had been paid that day.

Luckily, she arrives at the library before the rain. The white, fluorescent ceiling lamps hurt her eyes a little, she could never really become accustomed to them. They are truly an awful choice, considering people are to read here, would not a softer light be better for eyes? The library has a low budget, though. Her mouth crinkles into a small frown as she acknowledges that the institution itself has become forgotten, as they seem to have fewer readers every month. Setting her bag down in a cubby behind the circulation desk, she says her quick hellos to the other girls at the circulation desk, writes her name down on the volunteer chart, and clips her nametag to the front of her blouse.

“Jasmine, are these the ones that need to be reshelved?” She asks, in a low voice to another volunteer. She places her hand on the loading cart by the desk.

“Yes, I sorted through them a little bit ago,” Jasmine answers, raising a travel mug to her mouth and taking a quick sip. “They belong over in Nonfiction.”

“All right, well, I’ll take them over!” She responds cordially, dragging the cart over with her in her steps.

An hour into reshelving, the rain begins. At the same time, the air conditioning in the library turns on. Much more to her luck, she now has the coldness of the air conditioning and the gray, dark skies outside to keep her company. She hopes the weather lets up soon, as volunteering will end in another two hours for her. As she brings her empty cart back to circulation, Jasmine looks at her with an apologetic smile. The young girl’s eyes glance to the left and land on another cart full of books.

“I’m so sorry, Lyra!” Her fellow volunteer falters with shame, “We had a lot of books come back yesterday.”

“I’ve totally got it under control, don’t worry about it,” she reassures Jasmine.

With yet another quick shrug of a shoulder, she turns the cart with her and walks back to Nonfiction. She tries to bide her time now, glancing over at the windows regularly. The rain still has not stopped. In fact, it looks as if its drops weigh heavier onto the earth. What she would do for an umbrella. She snaps out of her trance as she hears the rustle of water and plastic nearby. Her hand squeezes between two books to fit another. Lucky that person, they’re folding up their umbrella, she thinks to herself.

Reaching the end of the shelf lines, she stops in the reading cubbies for a moment. Her eyes pause as she notices… her umbrella? Her body swiftly rushes towards it, to examine closer. It is indeed her umbrella, yellow tape on the bottom of the handle, wrapped up next to this person’s backpack. She picks it up in excitement and cannot believe somehow it ended up back in her possession, in some form or other. From all the water on her umbrella, she can tell they just arrived. She wonders for a moment, would it be bad to steal back her own umbrella? I mean, is it stealing if it’s owned by you? The thought strikes her.

In deliberation, she wonders what kind of legal issues it would put her in; and would it put her in any if she took it without the person knowing? No one saw her take it, it is rightfully hers, too. But then, what if it is still raining when they need to leave? She would be stranding this stranger in the rain after she saved them a year ago. Surely, this would be —

“Hey, what are you doing-!” A voice harshly whispers from behind her. “That’s my umbrella!”

She releases a small eep! in surprise to have been caught as she turns around to face the stranger. This time, she catches a good and long look at his whole person. Hair red like autumn leaves, eyes gray like fine granite, with a few water droplets speckled across his cheeks and the top of his head. His cheeks flare pink, as though he is tired. And yet, his eyebrows furrow in exasperation, probably with her, some stranger holding onto what seems to be his umbrella now. She realizes how bad this must look now.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she blubbers bashfully, “I think there is a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He responds sharply, without a second to lose, “How? You’re standing over my things and holding my umbrella.”

Air catches in her throat at his hostility. She becomes unsure how to proceed, their meeting last year was without a doubt brief, and she did not manage a good look of him then, so he definitely does not know who she is. His glare pierces her as she stands wordless in his path, growing more irritated by the second.

“I—Uhm—” she stumbles over her words. “This umbrella—”

“What of it? Did you want it because it’s raining outside? Were you trying to steal it?” He further interrogates her. Her face heats over accusations, which are not false.

“Yes—well, no—” she continues to dig her own grave. “I actually own this umbrella—”

“No, you don’t, it’s mine—technically it belongs to someone else, but I have yet to give it back to them,” he corrects her, “I don’t know where they are, I don’t even know who the person was, but I would like to personally return it. I don’t believe they’re the kind of person to just go and steal it back from someone, though.”

“That’s just it!” She exclaims, causing others in the library to turn to her. She winces at the thought she was loud, and loudly whispers back, “Sorry!”

“Please, just listen to me,” the young girl continues to explain. “Someone gave you this umbrella about a year ago, when it was raining really hard, right? They didn’t even say anything to you, they just shoved the umbrella in your hands and ran to hop in a car, right?”

He stares back at her, stunned. Slowly, the red in his cheeks deepens to match that of his hair, he must have realized by now. His savior in the rain that day… is this girl standing before him. He scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat, “...It was you?”

“Yeah, it was me.”

Silence ensues while she looks at him intently. He has resorted to bashfully looking at all other directions than hers, he does not know how to address her. After a minute more in the awkward space they share, he abruptly walks back over to his things and sits down in one of the reading chairs. She still stares.

“Well?!” He snaps chagrined. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Oh!” She realizes he has sat down by now and must be here to privately read or study. “No,” she answers as she scurries back to her book cart. “I have some books I need to shelf for the library.”

Unbeknownst to her, his eyes follow her as she hurries down the book aisles a little ways from him. For the next hour, she toddles around the library with her books, reshelving, taking peeks at the mysterious stranger she gifted her umbrella. And, with each peek, she catches him staring back at her. He swings his head back down to his laptop, a seemingly abashed grimace adorning his face. With each encounter, she feels a little better, even gaining enough confidence to smile back at him. Somehow, her route of book shelving lands her in the aisle closest to him and she feels compelled to speak to him, although she hasn’t the slightest clue what to talk about.

She steps up onto a footstool to reach the highest canopy. Maybe she could ask for his name? No, that would be far too odd, it makes it seem as if she wants to be his friend. Well, does she want to be his friend? She’s now unsure — and with her furrowed brow, she steps her foot behind herself to go down the footstool. Unfortunately, lost in thought, she misplaces her foot spacing and misses the step. She makes a small fall backwards and her hip hits the book cart. A few books from the cart clatter to the carpet floor.

Without a moment’s notice, he stands in front of her, crouching down to grab the fallen books. She reaches to help, but his free hand quickly catches hers.

“It’s fine,” he rebuffs her, “I’ll get them…” Her heart immediately palpitates in response to his holding her hand.

He stands back up to face her, releasing his grip and handing the books over. “Thank you,” she says softly. “...And I’m sorry I made you think I was taking your umbrella earlier.”

His face contorts into exasperation for a second but quickly reverts back with eyebrows still knotted. “Really, I had no clue, so I should be apologizing to you… It’s your umbrella anyway.”

“No! I gave it to you! It’s rightfully yours, I promise.”

He gazes back, a little stunned she’s willing to give her umbrella away. He steals a glance at the window, the rain still has not let up. “How will you get home if the rain continues?”

“I’m not sure… I’ll figure it out, though!” She reassures him with a smile. She turns away and starts reshelving the books and he begins walking back to his seat. A few steps from her, he turns back. She notices this and looks over. “Everything all right?”

His body slowly begins to face her… and she sees his expression. An almost… pained expression on his face, along with an awfully red complexion. She notices a clenched fist quiver as he tries to speak.

“W-Would you… maybe,” he slightly stammers, “I could walk you home… if you wanted.”

Air catches in her chest as her heart pounds at the suggestion. She cannot contain her joy — she has found a way home to stay dry and she may learn more about this boy! A delightful smile arches up her face, “That sounds like a fantastic idea!”

“O-Okay,” he gruffly clears his throat. “When do you need to leave?”

She steps out of the book aisle and looks for a wall clock. To her surprise, her volunteer time ends in a couple minutes. Her head turns back to him and whispers loudly down the aisle, “Can you do five minutes? I just need to put this cart back and grab my things.”

He gives a slight nod with his rouge cheeks and heads over to collect his things. As she travels back to the circulation desk, she gives her goodbye to Jasmine, signs her name off the volunteer list, and picks up her bag from the cubby. She heads to the door to see him already waiting for her, tapping his foot. He’s an impatient one, she thinks.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she apologizes, feeling a little guilty as he seemed a bit annoyed.

“It’s fine,” he rebuffs her again. The pair step outside the building and he opens up the umbrella. For a moment, they stand there, in some awkward silence. “Well? Aren’t you going to start walking to your house?”

“Oh!” She realizes again, her brain must have stopped working momentarily. “That’s right, you don’t know where I live,” she laughs squeamishly.

They start off, this time, walking in awkward silence. She thinks to herself it was smart of her to wear her rain boots, if not her pants would have been soaked. Her eyes wander down to the stranger’s pants beside her. No rain boots, in fact, he has to have been wearing the dirtiest pair of sneakers she has ever seen. His jeans also seem ill-fitting. She then notices his shoulder has been peeking out the side of the umbrella the whole time, to give her more space under the shelter.

“Woah, hey,” she starts all of a sudden, “You can come closer under the umbrella, I don’t want you to get more wet!”

Her hand tugs at his sleeve to pull him closer, to which she also takes notice of his backpack. Incredibly worn, there are several holes at the front and in his straps. Is this the only backpack he has ever owned? Breaking out of her assuming thoughts, she decides to try and make light conversation.

“Well, um, thank you for taking such good care of my umbrella all this time!”

“Yeah, sure.”

An attempt was made.

Swallowing, she feels a heavy air around him. Why so much tension?

“It’s kind of funny that awful weather made us meet, huh?”

What is she even saying anymore?

“I guess..?” He answers her, slightly off-put by her strange words.

“I’m just around this corner here…” she guides as they reach a four-way intersection in the neighborhood. Maybe she could invite him in for a cup of tea? Or maybe he does not want to make friends with her?

Walking up the street, a large bus begins to drive against their direction. A deep pothole lies before them, which he sees. However, in a way to cope with the gauche situation, she walks ahead.

“Wait-!” He calls out to her, and in a swift motion he abandons the umbrella and rushes to grab her arm to pull her back. But it becomes too late, the bus passes at the same time and the water in the pothole splashes them both. The umbrella falls a couple feet away. He holds her waist and her arm close to his body, their faces only inches apart. Completely soaked to the bone, their eyes peer into one another’s.

Thunder claps. The clouds darken. The rain comes down harder. It’s a little cold, but it feels warm between them, their hearts pounding. He gently lets her go from his grasp and turns to pick up the umbrella. They begin to walk again.

“Sorry,” he starts quietly, “I wasn’t fast enough.”

“No, please don’t be sorry!” She cries out dolefully, “I should have heard you and listened! But I guess it doesn’t matter now, we’re both soaked.”

He doesn’t reply. Almost to her home, she tries once more to make light of the conversation to hopefully make this experience one not so full of regret for him.

“You know, why were you out in the rain that day? Without an umbrella or anything?” She asks innocently, brimming with curiosity.

“Because my dad is a deadbeat.”

She purses her lips. An attempt was made.

She thinks to herself, that makes sense. He comes from a less fortunate home, with a father who doesn’t seem to love him. Yet somehow, under his rough exterior, she could find a kind person when she looked into his eyes. Would he come and visit her again if she asked?

“Oh, this is my place right here,” she motions to the small townhouse to the left of the street. He walks her to her door, where she stops and turns back to him. “Thank you for walking me all the way here, even though you ended up getting wet.”

“It’s fine,” he rebuffs her once more.

“You really love that phrase, huh?” She quips at him, his attitude was beginning to rub her the wrong way and she would let him know in her own friendly fashion.

However, he does not respond. Instead, he collapses the umbrella and begins to wrap it up. She realizes he means to give it back to her and walk home in the rain. Her hand quickly reaches for his own and she softly places hers over his grip.

“It’s okay, you can borrow it one more time,” she smiles. “It just means you’ll have to bring it back another day.”

“You don’t even know my name, why are you being so kind?” He plainly responds, although she could see her words made him feel special.

“Then, tell me your name, that way I can consider you a friend.”

“Silver.”

She takes the umbrella from his hands, unties it from the velcro, and props it open. She holds it over them, extending the handle to him.

“Silver, I’m Lyra, so take this umbrella, won’t you?”

The tenderness in her voice makes his knees weak and he cannot help himself from grabbing the umbrella from her hand. He nods, unable to find words, and starts to leave. She watches him with a smile walk away, after a few steps she opens her mouth.

“Come back on the next rainy day to return it!”

#soulsilvershipping #pokemon #rival silver #Trainer Lyra #for stella #heres a wittle library au its v soft i promise