Pink Top City Shorts: Braving the Storm

Pink Top City Shorts: Braving the Storm

The rain was coming down in sheets over the city, blurring the fluorescent glow of streetlights outside the house’s window. Inside, the mood was equally heavy—though for a very different reason.

Celeste was curled into a tight ball on the couch, wrapped in an oversized fleece blanket with her vivid green and purple hair sprawling across the cushions like a fallen star. A dull, throbbing cramp had been building all afternoon, but now it had officially crossed into full-blown, miserable period pain territory.

Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, Fabien was dressed in jeans, a Rush tank top, an unbuttoned blue flannel shirt, and was barefoot. Glancing over with deep concern, he saw the sharp grimace on her face as she squeezed a throw pillow tightly to her abdomen.

Fabien: “Are you okay, chérie?”

He asked as he padded over to the couch.

Celeste: “This is the end of Celeste, Fab. It feels like my uterus is going to rip out of me. I’m dying. Officially.”

Celeste let out a dramatic, muffled groan into the pillow.

He knelt beside the couch, gently brushing a strand of green hair away from her face.

Fabien: “What do you need?”

She looked up at him, her violet eyes filled with absolute desperation.

Celeste: “Go to the pharmacy. Please. I need the ultra-strength ibuprofen, and… I’m out of tampons. The super plus ones with the orange on the blue box.”

Fabien: “Consider it done. Give me ten minutes.”

He nodded.

Celeste: “Wait—are you really going out in this rain?”

She asked, a small, weak smile breaking through her pained expression.

Fabien: “Hey, just a little rain, chérie. I’m not like Blair, who cries over a little rain.”

He smirked, grabbing his keys off the hook and sliding his feet into his flip-flops.

Fabien stepped out into the dark, slick driveway and opened the door to his 1970 Shelby Mustang. With a satisfying metallic thud, the heavy door slammed shut. Slotted into the ignition, the key turned after he gave the gas pedal a light tap. The V8 engine roared to life, sending a deep, throaty rumble vibrating right through the floorboards.

Fabien gripped the gear shifter, the cold metal cool against his palm. He twisted in his seat, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder to check the dark, rain-streaked driveway. With a deliberate motion, he depressed the clutch pedal fluidly, the spring-loaded resistance familiar beneath his foot, and grabbed the stick shift into reverse, backing out with steady precision.

Once clear, he depressed the clutch again with a smooth, practiced motion and shifted into first, the engine growling in anticipation as he pulled away into the night.

Fabien flipped the switch on the steering column, and the windshield wipers slapped into motion. They rhythmically cleared the heavy downpour, squeaking against the glass with a steady, hypnotic cadence that cut through the sound of the engine and the drumming rain on the roof. The rhythmic sweep of the blades provided a small, mechanical relief as he navigated the slick, dark roads.

~

A few minutes later, Fabien parked near the entrance and trotted through the sliding glass doors into the bright fluorescent light inside.

He headed straight for the pain relief aisle first. That part was easy. He snatched the extra-strength ibuprofen off the shelf, double-checking the dosage to make sure it was fast-acting.

Then came aisle four: Feminine Hygiene.

Fabien stood in front of the wall of boxes, running a hand through his white hair as he scanned the overwhelming variety of colors, absorbencies, and brands. Orange box, super plus, he thought.

An elderly woman browsing the digestive relief aisle glanced over at him, taking in his lean frame, faded jeans, flip-flops, and the intense focus with which he was studying the feminine hygiene section. Fabien just offered her a calm, polite nod, completely unbothered.

After a moment of careful inspection, his eyes locked onto the exact orange box Celeste had described. He grabbed it, snagged a few bars of her favorite chocolate from a display rack, and carried his haul up to the front counter.

Before the cashier rang him up, Fabien pointed behind the counter.

Fabien: “Could I get a pack of Marlboro Reds?”

The cashier grabbed the pack and slid it across the counter. He told him his total.

Fabien paid for the items with bills from his wallet, stowed the cigarettes away in his pocket, and stepped out toward his vehicle, cradling the AuraCare bag carefully beneath his arm.

Back inside his car, he tapped the bottom of the new pack against his palm before pulling out a cigarette. He flicked his lighter to life, taking a slow, relaxing drag while the rain drummed steadily on the roof.

He shifted the Mustang into gear and pulled out of the pharmacy parking lot, the tires splashing through shallow puddles as he merged back onto the main road. The interior of the car was dim, lit only by the faint green glow of the dashboard and the cherry-red ember of his cigarette. Fabien held the Marlboro loosely between his fingers, his hand resting near the top of the steering wheel while his other palm guided the car through the slick turns.

The smoke from the cigarette swirled in the cool air of the cabin, caught in the invisible currents from the vents before drifting toward the ceiling. Through the windshield, the world was a smear of colors; the rain turned the streetlights into blurred, shivering halos of gold and white against the deep navy of the night sky. He kept a steady pace, the engine purring under the hood as he navigated the wet asphalt, focused on getting back to the warmth of the house and his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch.

~

The quiet of the living room was interrupted only by the steady patter of rain outside when Fabien unlocked the front door. Leaving his flip-flops at the entrance, he walked directly inside to find Celeste still huddled tightly within her fortress of blankets. He stepped into the kitchen, poured a fresh glass of water, and uncapped the medicine bottle, carefully shaking out two tablets into his open hand.

Moving over to the coffee table, he arranged the glass of water, the pair of ibuprofen pills, the box of tampons, and the chocolate bars before her. Before she could voice her gratitude, he disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare a hot water bottle, enveloping it in a plush towel before returning to the living room.

He settled the comforting warmth of the pack against her lower abdomen, then offered her the water and the medication.

Celeste swallowed the pills, clutched the hot water bottle to her stomach, and sank back into the pillows with a sigh of relief. She picked up a chocolate bar and looked up at him, her eyes softening as she caught the faint, subtle scent of tobacco and rain lingering on his flannel.

Celeste: “You got chocolate, too?”

She whispered.

Fabien: “Of course, I did.”

He murmured, smiling tenderly at her.

Fabien: “How do you feel?”

He asked as he sat on the floor by the couch, resting his head on the cushion by her.

Celeste: “Still aching, but... much better knowing I have the best boyfriend in the world.”

She reached out to ruffle his light hair. He smiled, leaning into her touch.

~

After Celeste ate her chocolate bar, Fabien stood up and looked down at her with a gentle determination. Without a word, he reached down and scooped Celeste into his arms, blankets and all. She let out a small, surprised chirp, but immediately clung to his neck as he lifted her effortlessly from the couch. He carried her carefully through the quiet hallway and into their bedroom, the floorboards barely creaking under his weight. He laid her down gently in the center of the mattress, smoothing the fleece blanket around her before tucking the duvet up to her chin to keep her warm and comfortable.

Fabien gently caressed her cheek, and the two softly kissed.

Celeste: “I love you so much, Fabien.”

Fabien beamed at hearing those words. He took her hand and kissed it.

Fabien: “I love you so much, too, chérie.”

He whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her. Celeste smiled and reached up, playfully dragging her fingernails along the nape of his neck. Fabien let out a low, vibrant chuckle, a slight shiver running down his spine from her touch.

Fabien: “Hehehhahahahaha!”

He laughed softly.

Fabien: “Get some rest, okay, mon chaton?”

He said gently, pressing his lips to her forehead. Celeste closed her eyes.

In the quiet of the room, Celeste felt a profound wave of gratitude wash over her. She reflected on how lucky she was to have someone as attentive as Fabien by her side; it wasn’t just that he had braved the storm for her, but the way he had remembered the small things—the specific chocolate, the warmth of the water bottle, and the steady, quiet way he looked after her. In the midst of her pain, those simple gestures made her feel deeply seen and cared for, grounding her in the comfort of his love.

She shifted in her bed, watching him shrug out of his flannel shirt, wearing just his tank top and jeans. He went to his computer, turned it on, and typed in his username and password to log onto Bungle.

Outside, the rain hammered against the roof in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by the deep, distant roll of thunder that vibrated through the house. Celeste lay still, letting the sounds of the storm wrap around her as she simply watched Fabien. Her gaze lingered on him with a quiet, unwavering adoration, feeling completely anchored by his presence as she watched the man she loved.