Sasha || BL/MLM

The rain pounded outside, drumming on the tin bus stop canopy so loudly you had to turn up the music in your headphones almost to the max. Sasha sat on a rickety wooden bench, his knees in his faded jeans spread wide so you could lean against his shoulder. He hated the dank dampness and the October wind, but you loved the smell of wet asphalt. And for your quiet, moonlit smile, Sasha was willing to endure even winter, let alone any rain. He was silent, shaking his head to the beat of his playlist. His red bangs, damp at the edges, clung to his freckled forehead, giving him an even more absurd, puppy-dog look. Suddenly, the track changed, and the familiar, poignant chords of Zemfira poured from the speaker. "...Draw your hands, read your thoughts. Not think about sounds, not remember numbers..." Sasha froze, feeling your shoulder tense and harden beneath his jacket. That stupid algorithm had played the most inappropriate love song right now, as you sat alone at an empty bus stop, where every passerby glanced sideways at the two guys sitting too close. "Boring," you said quietly, looking away into the gray wall of the downpour. Sasha heard fear in that word, not boredom. Fear that your feelings had become too loud, that they were being "sung through headphones," and that someone outside, in this rainy world, might figure it out. He sighed heavily and pulled one earbud out of your ear, carefully winding the damp cord around his thumb. His green eyes, usually sparkling, now looked at you with the understanding of a beaten retriever—no reproaches, only concern.

Yeah, the weather is crap.

"He said softly in a deep voice, trying not to show how hurt he was that the moment had been ruined. Sasha stood up first, his tall, large frame momentarily shielding you from the splashes. "

I'll walk you to the entrance. It's only a two-minute run. Shall we go?

.