God, this is one of the fluffiest, cheesiest, corniest things I've ever written. Probably because this is MY ONLY HAPPY OTP AT THE MOMENT. /huff

Part 2 of the Gaslight Anthem lyrics-drabble challenge between Kita and I.

Lyrics are "Howl" by, of course, The Gaslight Anthem.

.minnows

/

the sound of the cars rushing through the rain on the boulevard
in this city by the sea that has always haunted me
and belonged to me somehow
bless your waters and your doubts
bless your waters, bless your doubts

/

Two years later, Natsuki flies home for Christmas, and everything has changed.

Everything looks smaller – the colorful brick buildings, the sunburnt sidewalks, even the people, they all look as if they've been shrunken down to playhouse sizes, to paper houses and paper dolls. The only thing that has stayed its rightful size is the sea, which suddenly looks as though it could very well swallow up all of Enoshima with a single wave. It's all quietly overwhelming and a bit baffling, and Natsuki, all he does is stand in place and wait.

Staring out onto the water with a single backpack slung over his shoulder, it hits Natsuki that perhaps it's only him that has grown. Perhaps everything else has stayed the same without so much as a budge, and he's the one that strayed and became something unrecognizable. And that should make him feel pretty good, pretty grand and invincible like the man he always wanted to become, but it doesn't. It doesn't make him feel anything but the shallow sensation that he's been missing out, and now he doesn't belong here anymore. He's overgrown.

But still, he missed this place.

He missed that face.

It snows in America, but it rains in Enoshima. The weather is still wet, bitter, and gray, the flipside of the coin to this town when it's not brilliant and bright with sun. Raindrops speckle his glasses and leave little streaks of water in their wake, making it hard to see, but god knows he's blind as a bat without them, so he reluctantly keeps them on as he looks around in search of something that has stayed the same. He finds nothing substantial, nothing outside of bricks and paint and shapes that have stayed in place, only slightly more weathered by salty winds.

Up above, the plane that landed him is taking off again and leaving him behind in this suddenly foreign place. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like anything, really, but certainly not this, whatever this is. And now he's standing outside some nameless, boarded-up café with nothing but a backpack and single name and face in his mind, echoing and clanging like a bell he wants so desperately to ring out and bring him home. Where is he?

Where's Yuki?

Biting his bottom lip, Natsuki pulls out his cell phone from his pocket and checks the time. Five past noon. It's only five minutes past the time Yuki was supposed to be here. No big deal. And yet Natsuki's stomach is in knots. It's not like him to be anxious, but the thought of coming back to a stranger in a strange land makes his head spin, makes his heart pound, makes everything seem a bit faraway and unreal.

And then there's a flash of red across the road, just a peak of bright hair from underneath a raincoat hood as a huddled figure shuffles out of the convenience store. It's Yuki. God, it's Yuki, and his eyes are as blue as ever when he lifts his head, squints through the rain, and nearly drops the plastic bags in his hands when he gives a frantic, overjoyed wave. "Natsuki!" he shouts through the rain and grinning like a moron. "You're – um – hi!"

They meet halfway in the street, and after two long years, they're standing before each other again, shaking and smiling and holding their breath. Yuki's eyes are gleaming and blue, and his cheeks are flushed pink from the cold. Rainwater rolls down the bridge of his nose. He looks as though he's on the verge of saying something life-changing but can't find the right words to say it.

The honking of a horn interrupts their quiet moment, and they hop out of the way and onto the sidewalk. Yuki's laughing a breathless sort of laugh that makes Natsuki want to kiss him or do something crazy like that, and he just might, given the chance. Yuki pushes his wet bangs out of his eyes, plastic bag swinging about his wrist, and laughs out, "I'm just – uh – sorry, I'm so – "

"I missed you," Natsuki says, because he means it, and because it's really been so, so long.

Yuki takes in a quick breath, eyes shining. A sudden gust of misty wind blows the hood of his raincoat off his head. Natsuki reaches forward and pulls it back down. Yuki's cheeks flush pink, and Natsuki really does kiss him now, just because it seems to make sense, and just because Yuki's lips haven't gotten any less soft during these two years apart. He's remained constant. He's still here, just an inch taller yet still shorter than Natsuki by a wink, and that's such a perfect thing to come back to that Natsuki kisses him again, and again, and again as the rain pelts down on their coats and pools around their feet. Winds howl. The storm picks up, and when Yuki breaks the kiss, he's smiling like a child and taking Natsuki's hand to tug him along down the sidewalk. Through the rain and over his shoulder, he shouts and laughs that he's taking him back to his place, just for a little while, until the rain lets up.

When they find themselves in a tangle of raindrops and breath within Yuki's bed, telling mindless stories back and forth about all those missing months, everything foreign is lost, and Natsuki is finally home again.