todokanu

raindrops and kittens | tao/girl!kai
zitao is the lead of a shoujo manga and jonghee complies (shoujo manga-esque hs au) | g ; ~3.5kw
hi amy, jay and jannah n_n

Spring fades to summer, and the northern winds begin to carry with them warmth instead of the bitterness of winter, nurturing buds into bloom and willing the leaves to unfurl on the branches, blanketing the city with pockets of green. Flowers dress themselves in dainty petals, and with time, mature to sombre colours as their successors take their place. And inside the school buildings, the dreaded excitement of the start of school has long since given way to the dragging routine of classes and studying.

“There’s a time and season for everything,” he murmurs quietly.

There’s no one to hear him on the roof, as he shifts so his left leg is crossed over his right, hands pillowed under his head as he stares at the cloudless sky, eyes half closed against the piercing sun behind him. His phone lies beside him, but all is quiet as he lies there. A cloud drifts by. He is the only one who sees.

-

“Yah, I told you to stop bothering me!” Kim Jonghee slammed the book she’d been reading down on the desk and jumped to her feet, shooting an evil look at her friend as she stalked down the hall. Stupid, stupid, stupid Oh Sehun she muttered viciously to herself silently. A dazed looking second year got out of her way before she nearly barreled into her, and Jonghee muttered a hurried “sorry” before turning into the stairwell.

What part of stop bothering me was hard to understand anyway? Stupid Sehun. Baekhee had waved her hand and said Sehun was at that age for guys as if that explained everything, but if Jonghee had said she didn’t want to talk to him, that meant she didn’t want to talk to him. And as if that hadn’t been enough, lately Lu Han had been driving her up a wall too. Every time she went to go find Yixing to ask if the older girl wanted to do some dance practice together, Lu Han was there. Not that, Jonghee admitted, she didn’t like Lu Han, it was just that she missed the times when it was just the two of them.

Without realising it, Jonghee found herself at the top of the stairwell. Only normally, where there was a locked door at the top landing, a fresh breeze of air from outside spilled in through a crack. Curious, Jonghee pushed open the door to find herself on the roof. Sunlight poured over the tiles, the school field just visible past the edge of the concrete, the city sprawled below that in all its busy splendour.

Her eyes opened wide as she grinned, spreading her arms out. “It’s so pretty,” she murmured quietly to herself. She spun, for the sheer joy of spinning, her skirt flaring out around her—

Only to see someone there.

Jonghee froze, and took a slow step back.

There was a boy lying there. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her, but then he turned and blinked. Jonghee gulped. His eyes pierced through her, dark and menacing, and she suddenly remembered the rumours of the boy in her year. Huang Zitao – dark and brooding, with a possibly terrifying past, and with apparently few friends to speak of. “If you know what’s good for you, you should avoid him,” Chanyeol had told her conspiratorially. “He’s apparently a black belt in all sorts of martial arts and nearly beat someone to death before.”

Jonghee turned away and walked with a steady pace to the other end of the roof. She sat down and pulled out her ipod from her pocket—there were still another twenty minutes until the end of lunch. She tapped through her songs before just setting it on shuffle, leaving the ipod next to her as she leaned back on her hands.

It really was pretty up here. She wondered how the boy had gotten up here—she’d always thought the roof was locked. The wind brushed her bangs across her face, and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. A smile crept back on her face. She felt like a character in a drama, sitting on the roof like this on such a beautiful day. As long as she was here, it felt like Sehun didn’t matter and Lu Han didn’t matter and she had all the time in the world all to herself.

Twenty minutes passed by far too quickly, and reluctantly, Jonghee got to her feet.

On the other side of the roof, the boy got to his feet as well. Jonghee hesitated, before she walked to the door anyway, the two of them getting there at the same time. Standing next to him, Huang Zitao seemed even taller than before.

I’m not scared of you, she thought to herself. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, before she darting past him and dashing down the stairs, back to her classroom. When Sehun asked her where she’d been, Jonghee ignored him and remembered a piercing pair of black eyes.

-

Why was she so angry at me? Zitao stares at the girl’s retreating back before he shrugs.

Lunch was over, and he had to get to class too. With one wistful look at the beautiful day behind him, Zitao pulls the door shut behind him and leaves as well.

“Life is made up of fleeting moments we don’t understand,” he says to himself, and repeats it a few times so he’s sure he’ll remember it when he gets around to posting it on weibo later.

-

“So Lu Han says you’ve been awfully grumpy lately.”

Jonghee turns just her head to look at the girl beside her, before thumping her head solidly back against the wall. “I am not grumpy,” she mutters, pushing a hair through damp bangs. They’re in an empty classroom, the tables and chairs pushed enough to one side to give the two of them room to move. Now, they’re sweat drenched and pleasantly tired, sitting on the floor while staring up at the window across from them.

Yixing chuckles at Jonghee’s response. “Sure you’re not,” she says placidly. “Even I can tell, you know?”

“No you can’t because I’m not grumpy,” Jonghee repeats. She sighs, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees.

“What’s wrong?” Yixing asks. She loops an arm around Jonghee’s shoulder and tugs her over until Jonghee is leaning against Yixing. “You can tell unnie.”

Yixing is sweaty through her t-shirt and so is Jonghee, but Jonghee leaves her cheek where it rests against Yixing’s shoulder. She’s missed this, even if she’d never say so. This is why Lu Han thinks I’m grumpy, she doesn’t say.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says.

Yixing sighs. “Is it because you’re jealous?” she says suddenly, and Jonghee jerks away and stares at her.

“I’m what?”

“Jealous?” Yixing looks at her, tilting her head in confusion. “Did I say that right? Was my pronunciation wrong? Did I get the—”

“No, no, no,” Jonghee cuts her off with a wave of her hand. “I know what you mean but why would I be jealous?”

Yixing bites at her lip. “Well, Lu Han said that you might be because he’s always with me and maybe you’re jealous of…me? Or him? Or…”

Yixing trails off under Jonghee’s disbelieving gaze. “Or something else?” Yixing tries.

Jonghee huffs and turns away. “I’m not jealous,” she says. “Tell Lu Han that he’s just imagining things.”

“Oh!” Yixing smacks a fist into her other hand. “I know! Is it because there’s someone else you like?”

“What!? Ye— I mean no I mean what are you talking about?” Jonghee chokes on her words, flustered at the sudden change of conversation. Again. One would think that by now, she’d be used to it. She isn’t.

“So there is someone?” Yixing turns to look at her slowly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, the dimple in her cheek out at full force as she grins. “I knew it! It is boy trouble!”

Jonghee huffs and jumps to her feet. “You are being ridiculous and I’m going home.”

She’s already on the train back before she realises that she’d just left Yixing to clean up the room by herself. sry about the tables she texts. i’ll make it up to u l8r

If she were perfectly honest with herself, Yixing wasn’t wrong when she said that Jonghee had been a little grumpier than usual lately. Ever since that time she’d run out on Sehun in the middle of lunch, she swore that Sehun had been getting more and more insufferable lately. The other day, he’d texted her asking if she could meet him at the lockers before school because he had something to give her but of course he was late, and to make matters worse, she’d nearly run into that brooding, dark-eyed guy in her grade again.

“He’s so creepy,” Chanyeol had muttered, dragging Jonghee away with him. “I heard him tell a girl that he had nunchucks in his bag. I mean, who does that?”

“Seriously Yeol, you gossip more than a girl does,” Baekhee had cut in at this point, looping an arm through Jonghee’s. “He’s not that bad. I mean, if you ignore the emo-death-glare-I-don’t-know-how-to-smile-and-have-no-friends thing, he’s kind of pretty cute. And tall.”

Jonghee shook off both her friends and rolled her eyes. “You’re both exaggerating,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder. She suddenly remembered the time she’d seen him on the roof. She’d gone up a few times since—the door was almost always locked, and on the few times it wasn’t, she could see him through the crack, lying there with his hands under his head like that one time she’d been there too. Whether or not it was locked though, she always quietly went back downstairs, curiosity satisfied. She shrugged. “He’s probably just shy.”

“Shy?” Chanyeol snorted. “Have you seen the way he looks at people? I’m not surprised no one wants to talk to him.”

Baekhee hit Chanyeol on the arm. “I’d talk to him!” she protested. “But he’s not in my class and no one seems to know where he goes at lunch.”

Jonghee kept quiet all the way down the hall, only cutting in to remind them that they’d promised to help her with her math homework afterschool.

And then there was that time when she’d tripped over something in gym class, and of course it had been Zitao who’d been right behind her and had helped her up. She’d muttered a thanks and limped off, before Sehun ran up and helped her to the bench. “I don’t need your help,” she’d hissed, but Sehun had made her sit and gone to get an ice pack for her anyway.

Add to that well this and that…

And okay, so maybe Jonghee had been a little grumpy lately.

But that wasn’t really her fault, was it?

She ends up sulking the entire way home, Yixing's words hovering over her like a dark cloud until she gets into bed that night. Jonghee groans and pulls the blanket over her head. Stupid Yixing, she thinks, but takes that back. No, stupid Sehun. Stupid, stupid Sehun.

And stupid Zitao too.

-

The sun seems dim when he steps outside. Zitao pauses, adjusting the straps of his bag as he looks up at the sky. He shields his eyes with one hand as he stares at the clouds.

“Ah...Looks like it’s going to rain today.”

-

The clouds hold for most of the day and most of the afternoon, only breaking out into a deluge when Jonghee is halfway to the train station. Jonghee curses, holding her hands above her head in a useless shield before she gives up and breaks into a run, clutching her bag to her chest.

There’s someone standing by the bank of the river, and Jonghee only thinks the boy looks somewhat familiar before she runs on.

At least until she’s stopped by the call of her name.

“Jonghee! Kim Jonghee, right?”

Jonghee turns slowly, standing as the rain beats against the top of her head, trailing rivulets down her skin. The boy is looking straight at her, and Jonghee realises it’s Huang Zitao. He’s holding an umbrella over something, as he himself is drenched, and he gestures at her to come closer.

Jonghee hesitates, remembering everything that Chanyeol’s told her, but walks forward anyway, still clutching her bag to her chest.

“I—” ’m not afraid of you, she’s about to say, but Huang Zitao opens his mouth first.

“You don’t have an umbrella, right?” he says. “I have an extra one. Do you want to borrow it?”

Jonghee shuts her mouth. “Then why aren’t you using it?” she asks.

Zitao smiles – Jonghee feels her heart skip a beat. Zitao is tall, and when his bangs are plastered to his face, half covering his eyes, the corners of his lips crooked upwards, she wonders how she found ever found him scary at all.

“I can’t hold two umbrellas at a time,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His words sound strange when he speaks, as if he’s mumbling, and Jonghee takes a moment to realise that’s what it is. Zitao looks down at something near his feet, and Jonghee walks closer in curiosity.

At first, it just looks like a black, squirming, furry mass of something, but when Jonghee kneels down, she realises it’s a mother cat and her kittens, only the mother cat isn’t moving.

“Is she…dead?” Jonghee asks. She looks up at Zitao.

Zitao suddenly looks indescribably sad. “She’s…”

Jonghee looks back at the cat, and knows what Zitao means without him saying it. “The kittens will die,” she says. “They can’t live without their mother.”

“Not if we save them.” When Jonghee looks up at Zitao, there’s a determined set to his mouth, and the fire is back in his eyes; it is a fire that says that there is nothing in this world that is impossible for him, and that he will stop at nothing to do what he says he will do. His eyes are dark and piercing.

“We?” Jonghee asks.

Zitao looks taken aback. “I mean—I…? My Korean’s not very good.”

Jonghee laughs, and gets to her feet. “Where’s your other umbrella?” she asks.

Zitao blinks at her a few times before he points at his bag at his feet. “It’s in my bag,” he says. “I can get it for you but—”

“Give me that,” Jonghee says. She grabs the umbrella that Zitao is holding before he responds, and crouches down, holding the umbrella over the kittens. One of the kittens looks up at her as they try fruitlessly to nurse.

The rain suddenly disappears, and when Jonghee looks up, she realises that Zitao is slowly crouching down next to her, holding the umbrella over them both. Their close proximity is unnerving, and Jonghee turns back to the cats.

“What if we took them to the vet?” she asks hesitantly. She’s never had a cat before.

Beside her, Zitao shakes his head. “They won’t let me touch them,” he says. “And I can’t carry them all…”

Jonghee looks at him before standing up abruptly. “I’ll be back,” she says, leaving the umbrella propped over the cats. She runs off, back to the main street where she’s familiar with the shops. She runs up to a couple of the ahjummas, ignoring them when they tell her to come inside until the rain stops, until she returns with a medium sized cardboard box.

“What—”

“Just wait,” Jonghee mutters. She opens her bag, making a face when she realises that the rain has soaked partway through, but ignores it as she pulls out her spare set of clothes she wears for dance, nestling it in the box.

“Where’s the nearest vet?” she asks Zitao as she works. Zitao holds the other umbrella over the both of them, keeping one hand on the umbrella shielding the kittens.

“I…don’t know,” he says, but even as he speaks, he’s pulled out his phone with his free hand and taps furiously at the screen.

Jonghee grabs one of them by random, but even though they’re tiny, they’re unexpectedly vicious and Jonghee grits her teeth when the kitten drags a claw across her hand.

“That hurt,” she says.

“I’ll do it,” Zitao says. He hands her the umbrella.

Zitao scoops up two of the kittens first, little black bundles, and rests them in the box. He doesn’t even flinch when they bite him sharply on the hand, claws digging into his arm, Jonghee notices with some awe. Two more kittens, and then the last, and his hands are covered in claw marks. The mother lies there still and unmoving, and Jonghee jerks her eyes away.

She slips her bag over her shoulder and picks up the box.

“Tell me where we’re going,” she directs him as he stands.

Zitao nods, fumbling with bags and umbrellas as his phone, and after everything changes hands a few times, they settle with Jonghee cradling the box as Zitao holds an umbrella over all of them as best as he can, his phone in his other hand as he tries to read the directions.

Jonghee shivers from the cold, but Zitao’s shoulder is warm against hers, and the mewing of the kittens drives Jonghee to walk faster. The vet isn’t that far away—ten minutes, at most, but the distance feels both too long and too short when she can feel Zitao’s muscles shifting against her own. It is a strange feeling.

They’re ushered in, and the kittens are handed over, and when they sit down to wait, Jonghee notices guiltily that Zitao must not have been under the umbrella at all, the way he’s soaked.

“You’re completely wet,” she says, stating the obvious. Zitao shrugs and laughs.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m not important.”

They sit there in silence, Jonghee tapping her knees, wondering if maybe she should call home while Zitao leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I’ll pay,” he says suddenly.

“Huh?”

“I’ll pay for the vet,” he says.

“Split,” Jonghee says. “It’s only fair.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Jonghee glares at him, and Zitao seems to shrink back as he nods.

Time passes, and slowly, the silence goes from comfortable to awkward, but Jonghee has never been good at striking up conversation. No, that’s Baekhee, or Chanyeol, or even Jongdae. Not her. She’s just about to ask him why he always goes up to the roof when the vet emerges, and they both get to their feet.

“The good news is that they seem healthy,” she says. “No obvious parasites or problems. They’re a little malnourished, but that doesn’t surprise me. Now the question is if you’re planning to leave them at a shelter—”

“Not yet.” Zitao interrupts her, shaking his head. “Shelters…they usually can’t take care of them, right? For long, I mean.”

The vet shrugs, and smiles sadly. “They try,” she says. “But resources are limited.”

“Then we’ll take care of them,” Zitao says. Jonghee looks at him. His eyes are as steely as his voice. “We’ll take care of them and we’ll find them homes.”

The vet smiles at them and pats Zitao on the hand. Zitao blinks in surprise. “Okay. In that case, I’ll have my assistant print out a list of instructions for you.”

“About the bill,” Jonghee blurts out suddenly. “Can we take care of that first?”

“The bill?” The vet looks at her and chuckles. “Oh, that. Let’s just say this was on me, okay? Just take good care of them in return.”

In the end, they leave with a cat carrier and nursing bottles and a warm blanket instead of Jonghee’s practice clothes, and a reminder to bring the kittens back when they’re older for a check-up. The rain has stopped by the time they leave, and they walk in silence towards the train stop, the kittens cradled against Zitao’s chest.

“Are you going to keep them?” Jonghee asks.

Zitao hesitates, before he nods. “I have some room,” he says. “And I don’t mind waking up to feed them.”

“Neither do I,” Jonghee blurts out, and Zitao looks at her.

“Do you want to come over?” he says. “For the kittens.”

“…I’ll have to ask my mom,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

Zitao grins and nods. “Okay! You should go home first today. It’s getting late. It’s dangerous to walk by yourself by night.”

“Don’t tell me what I should do,” Jonghee grumbles, but nods as well. They’re almost at the train station anyway.

“Ah, I don’t have your number,” Zitao says suddenly. He looks horribly embarrassed, and Jonghee laughs.

“It’s okay,” she says, pulling out her phone. It’s a little damp from the rain, but otherwise fine. “Tell me yours.”

She enters his number into her phone, just as they get into the station. They’re going in different directions. Zitao waves at her before walking off, and Jonghee waves back.

“Text me!” he says, pointing at the phone in her hand, before disappearing into the crowd.

Jonghee stands there, clutching the phone to her chest as she stares in the direction he went long after he’s still visible. I’m not scared at you, she thinks to herself, lips twitching in amusement. Because you’re not very scary, are you?

Wait until she told Chanyeol how wrong he was, she thought, as she ran off to catch her own train. Or, on second thought, maybe not. The kittens could be their own little secret. And maybe Zitao too.

-

That night, all Zitao posts on his weibo is a picture of the kittens, captioned mysteriously with appearances are not all that they seem!!!