A Stained Glass Romance

I had planned down to the smallest detail. I dare say I had never planned anything so meticulously (because probably, in my entire life, I had never planned absolutely anything.)
Of course, plans are an unstoppable force.
Chance is an immovable object.

Everyone knows what happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object.

What I was saying, in an exaggerated way, is that I didn’t count on the weather forecast—which my phone swore would be clear skies—giving me a slap in the face in the form of the worst rain I’d seen in months.
Saying it was pouring would be underselling it (not really, I’m exaggerating.)

20:25 I was standing in front of the store, absorbing more water than a sponge, and though I could’ve gone inside, I decided not to (if this ended with me in bed with a fever, Kiri would probably deduct even more days from my pay).

20:30 she finally lifted her head from her phone and stared at me for a while, tilting her head left and right. I’d say she was about to insult me in one of her thousand ways, but my phone never vibrated.
She stood up, crossed the counter, and came close enough to the door for it to open, but not so close that the rain would hit her.

“What are you supposed to be doing standing out there?”

“Waiting.”

“Elaborate.”

“Didn’t we agree the time was 20:35?”

“Tanaka, do you notice it’s raining?”

“Exactly because of that…” I answered while shaking my head—someone could easily compare me to a dog shaking off water.

“I’m going to repeat it one more time.” She said, barely sticking her head out through the door frame. “It’s raini—Oh… Oh!”

“Now you get it?”

“One moment. One moment!” She answered, though I could swear she wasn’t listening to me.

20:31 she started lowering the shutter.
20:32 I couldn’t see inside the store anymore.
20:35 the shutter door opened.

What poked out wasn’t Kiri—it was an umbrella, followed by her.

“Did I… make you… wait… too long?” she asked, tilting the umbrella forward a little to cover her face (because of course she wasn’t going to use it to keep me from getting wet).

“Not much.” More than you could possibly imagine, and I’m not talking about this particular situation. “Can we… go inside already?”

“Something’s not right.” She answered, lifting the front of the umbrella a little.

“I think standing under the rain.”

“No, it’s not that…” she murmured, pressing her index finger to her cheek. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’ what?”

“The man is the one who waits with the umbrella in the rain.” She said, closing her umbrella and practically shoving it against my chest. “I’m going back inside.”

“Kiri… this is—”

“Silence, Tanaka. You owe me.” She said while crouching to get back under the shutter door.

“Why am I supposed to—”

“Do you really want me to remind you what happened this morning?”

“Nope, nope, I got it… I’ll stay out here a little longer.” Seriously, I didn’t want her to remind me—I was already doing it for her.

The rainy day had made it get dark faster, and the streetlights didn’t take long to turn on—which is normal for streetlights because they have something called photocells that make them turn on automatically when light is low.

This wasn’t important at all, but focusing my attention on irrelevant things helped me not notice how the people who were walking with umbrellas were looking at me.

That said, I just focused my attention on what I said I wasn’t going to focus on.

Rewind.

A few minutes later Kiri poked her head out through the shutter door again. “Did I make you wait too long?” she asked once more.

“Honestly…” I answered, looking at the closed umbrella in my hand. “My whole life.”

“W-What!? TANAKA!” She spoke way, way too loud while locking herself back inside the store. “Wrong line, Tanaka!”

“Kiri, seriously I’m going to get sick. Open the door.”

“Wrong-line!”

“Okay, okay… ‘not much, Kiri.' I added, trying to keep some seriousness. Yeah, I should’ve been uncomfortable (maybe?) from standing in the rain and getting soaked, or because Kiri was holding the door from the inside so I couldn’t open it, but… I don’t know, it was a little fun, honestly.

Magic words? I could say they were something like that. The door opened and I was finally going to stop looking like an over hydrated plant.

“I assume you planned something for today…” she commented, draping a towel over my head. “Pros and cons evaluation?”

“Are you going to suggest we stay here again and let me choose a cheap ice cream?”

“No.”

“Great.”

“You can choose one with topping. Just today.” She commented, covering herself with a towel too, as if she’d gotten wet as well. “Any complaints?”

“None, boss.” I answered, drying my hair. Luckily my jacket—though it looked like it came from the trash—worked for rainy days. That saved me from the whole 'oh, my shirt is semi-translucent from the rain' and the classic misunderstanding that follows.

“Today I’m not your boss… date…”

“Ah… right… then yes, yes I do have a complaint.”

“Good for you.” She said, already in 'Kiri stance.'

“What if this time we do something I suggest?”

“What if we don’t? You advanced more, you can choose whatever ice cream you want…” She answered while looking at her phone. Judging by her thumb movement, I’d say she was bored, swiping from one video to another without really watching. “You get a job and instantly become greedy.”

“Uh-huh. For more than an ice cream? I suppose if I asked for one of the sandwich packs you’d say I was committing a crime against humanity.” I said, letting the towel hang around my neck while heading toward one of the corners of the store.

Luckily she’d listened when I told her not to leave the supplier’s product boxes on the street (yes, Takuya, but I’m not naming him, banned from my brain. Forever).

“No, why would I say that?”

“Sarcasm, Kiri… sarcasm…” I answered while searching for the biggest boxes I could find. “Can you throw me some tape and a marker?”

“What are you supposed to be doing?”

“With a little luck, carrying out my idea.” Point for me for catching things mid air, because more than throws they looked like projectiles.

“Which is…?”

“Don’t ask a magician his secrets.”

“You’re not a magician.”

“I also don’t have secrets, and anyway that’s not the point. I don’t think it’s going to stop raining.”

“Looks that way…”

“Give me the roof keys. There’s a small overhang up there.”

“Seriously, what are you planning?” She left the keys on the counter—clearly annoyed at not knowing, but not enough for curiosity not to win.

“I need you to stay inside the bathroom for… uhm… about 20 minutes?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No, I was stating it—I just needed to calculate the time.”

“Tanaka, you…” She pointed at me like that videogame lawyer, though she didn’t say anything else. She took her phone and went straight to the bathroom.

I hope this worked because I was the one saying it.
I can’t imagine how many robberies the store would have if it were any other way.

Worth clarifying, I was never good at crafts or anything like that, despite watching that TV show as a kid where they taught you to make all kinds of things with everyday objects.

I probably ended up with something aesthetically horrible.
Probably not.
Probably questioning myself would take away the little self respect I had left.

After finishing my new 'work of art,' I carried the boxes up to the roof and made sure to leave them under the overhang (point for me, it really kept the rain off).
One way or another we didn’t have much to do, but the streetlights, the rain, the buildings around, I don’t know, it looked good.

“You can come out now.” I said, knocking twice on the bathroom door.

“One second…”

“Come on, it was 20 minutes, what are you doing in there?”

“Tanaka, weren’t you the one who said not to ask what someone’s doing in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, but when I said that I meant—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“So? How do I look?” she asked as she opened the door. She wasn’t dressed very differently from usual, honestly—just changed her hairstyle, wore a sleeveless shirt of a different color, and thigh-high socks that—I assume—were deliberately mismatched colors.

For someone who wasn’t dressed 'very differently from usual,' she really made me notice everything in seconds.

“Uhm… if I give you an answer you’re going back into the bathroom…” I answered with a laugh. “By the way… give me.” I said, extending my hand.

“What?”

“Your phone.”

“Why?”

“No messaging this time… not tonight.”

“Tanaka…”

“Come on, just trust me, okay? I have an idea.”

“Whatever. Can I go up now?” She said, placing her phone in my palm. It was obvious—too obvious—that she was trying to look confident even though she was far from it.

“Yeah… just… don’t expect anything big.” I left both our phones under the counter and walked behind her (obviously looking at the stairs, because… well, she was ahead and 'stairs'.)

She stood for a moment staring at the boxes lined up next to each other, probably wondering what my 'plan' was (at this point I admit I was improvising.)

“This one’s mine, right? Because if it’s not mine, now it is. I want this one.” She said, almost instantly crawling inside one of the boxes.

“Of course. Do you really think I’d choose that one?”

“It looks better than the outside of your apartment, Tanaka.”

“Hey… that’s not—”

“I was joking.” Her voice had a little reverb—probably because she was inside a box.

“Uh-huh, joking…” Wait… Kiri was joking?

“So? What’s the idea?”

“I think… there are things to say, probably, I guess… and I know you can't speak directly.” I commented, turning her box slightly toward my side (advantage of having cut holes so we could see). “I thought this was a good way to… I don’t know… keep everything directly indirect.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“Thanks.” I answered.

“In that case…” Her box shifted a little toward my side. “Thanks for this… and…”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm… I hold you in esteem that goes beyond what I can comprehend, beyond what I can express…” She said while her box wobbled a little.

“Can you simplify that for me?” I asked. Yes, yes, on purpose.

“Don’t push me.”

“Sorry.”

“Fake apology.”

“I plead guilty.”

“I like you, Tanaka.”

Despite the rain pounding the overhang sheets, I could hear it clearly—that voice with a slight tremor coming from inside her box.
A box which, I forgot to mention, I’d taped a couple of cardboard pieces to so they looked like two ears and a tail.

A box that had probably originally held wine bottles or something glass, because it still had the 'fragile' label.