Lightning sparked across the dark gray clouds above Illagu, a boom of thunder following closely after it. The rain cascaded down onto the city while I watched from the top of the clock tower.
After my interview with the Strokes had ended, I came here. Then the storm began almost as soon as I reached the top. It was calming.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs. I spun to face the door. The silent bell the only thing between us, I waited for the owner of the footsteps to arrive.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Leslie walked through the doorway. “Oh good, you are here. Ietijfdslkmejfdusjidked all those steps for nothing.”
I let out the breath I was holding and turned back to look out at the storm. Leslie leaned against the low wall beside me.
“Is something wrong?” they asked.
“No,” I replied. “It’s nothing. Probably.”
Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Alright. And how did your interview go?”
I groaned. “Not. A. Clue. There were three different people asking me questions and it felt like each one of them hated me for some reason.”
Leslie chuckled. “Is that why you’re up here, Dax?”
“Huh?”
Leslie reached over, their fingers threading through my hair. “I’ve noticed you eetijfdmsdjigh places when you’re upset. Even when we met, you fell from apeijofdsmjuefsjnt.”
“I was in the tree because that’s where the food was.”
“You know there are such things as berries, right?”
I rolled my eyes. Then I turned my back on the storm, leaning against the low wall the same way Leslie did.
“I’m not upset,” I said. “I enjoy being in tall places – it’s as simple as that.”
Suddenly, there was a flash of white light. BOOM!
The clock tower shook. Even the bell swayed a little. We glanced at each other with wide eyes.
“I don’t know about you,” they said, “but I’d rather die doing something awesome rather than get crushed by a bell.”
I snorted as I began laughing. Leslie smiled, then walked into the stairway. I followed them as another roll of thunder made the tower sway again.
When we reached the foot of the stairs, we sat down next to each other, staring out at the curtain of rain beyond the door. A few sprinkles would occasionally splash inside onto our feet.
“Neither of us brought umbrellas,” I stated.
“Nope,” Leslie replied. “But we could make some.”
“We could.” I glanced down at their hand – their nails today painted purple, yellow, and pink. I placed my hand on top, my fingers interlacing with theirs.
Leslie planted a kiss on my cheek. I glanced up at them, scooting closer.
“There you two are!” came Ramona’s voice. She stood in the doorway scowling at us while she held an umbrella above her head. “We need to get back home now. The streets are already flooding.”
Without even waiting for a response, she turned around, already walking away. After sharing an annoyed glance with each other, Leslie and I made umbrellas for ourselves and followed her home.
To be continued…