Bouquets of Chocolate (manxman)

Fifteen

I can't tell whether the hand in mine is this wet from his sweat or the rain, but that doesn't really matter to me right now. I don't think I've ever felt as free as I do right now, running through the worst downpour London has seen this month, the sweats and ratty old band shirt I'm wearing uncomfortably clinging to my skin, my hair flopping into my eyes to the point it's hard to see what's ahead of me, and the love of my life right next to me, like he always is.

My sneakers are splashing water every where, and with every step there's that wet sound you imagine when you feel the little puddle that's formed in your shoes. It's cold, too, and the goose bumps on my exposed arms are testament for that, but even so right now, I envy Jordie's choice of foot wear, because at least in flip flops, there's no puddles to be formed.

There's no one around because it's the middle of the night, but somehow that makes it all more exciting, more intimate, more daring. This isn't usually me, and I'd say that on most days, if I was told I would be doing this, the first thing I'd do is list all the reasons why that's such a bad at idea. But here I am, still about ten minutes from our destination, and running, which in itself is probably the biggest miracle. And my inexperience with the activity shows, because I'm panting, spitting out water left right and centre while doing so, because again, it's absolutely pissing it down.

I laugh, without really ever thinking about it, or knowing exactly what's possessing me to do so, I laugh, even without any air in my lungs.

Jordie briefly looks over at me, his defined chest snuggly hugged by his wet shirt, and his eyes finding mine through the strands of his drenched hair, blinking furiously to keep the water out of his eyes. I pull him to a stop in my madness, the lack of care about the rain now apparently making me stupid, too. Who in their right mind would stand in the middle of a downpour at the end of February in barely any clothes? Me, apparently. My rush of adrenaline makes me tackle Jordie, hugging him to me tightly, still laughing like a maniac. I grip his face with both of my hands and pull him down so I can rest my forehead on his, just like we did earlier, only a lot less dry. I look at him, my lips pulled into a giant grin, and I struggle to contain my sudden awe at his beauty. There's tiny drops of water sitting on his slightly clumped eye lashes and the long strands of hair framing the sides of his face are almost sinful. The fact that he is as beautiful outside as he is on the inside is stunning in and of itself. The fact that we are forever is even more so.

I don't bother voicing any of my sudden romantic realisations, and instead kiss him like a man drowning. My fingers tangle in his hair as he finally sinks into the kiss, pulling me to himself and providing me with a little bit of warmth from his body. Sadly, it's not enough, and we pull away all too soon, now shaking with the cold and wet.

"Let's go," I whisper with my lips still on his, then take his hand in mine and start running again, still out of breath.

We eventually make it to the little cute building a little further away from the city centre, and we're let in only seconds after knocking.

"You know, one would think that if you're making people lose their beauty sleep for a favour, you'd be on time." Fin greets us with her fists on her waist, her eyebrows raised, and two towels draped over her shoulder. She throws them at us the moment we step through he door.

Neither of us answer her question, we just look at each other with silly grins. We may or may not have gotten slightly lost in each other while getting ready - or well, not getting ready.

"Where's your suits?" is her next question, and now I can't help but look slightly sheepish. While there was little chance I would have gotten anything, I actually didn't even look in the first place. As I said, future hubby was too distracting. So I just shrug helplessly.