The Beauty Of The Rain
by Electric Monk
Copyright© 2006 by Electric Monk
Romantic Story: Beneath a falling sky sit a boy and a girl, waiting. A glimpse at the beginning of something, the endings of something.
Tags: mt/ft Teenagers Romantic Heterosexual
The sky above the tent was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. Framed in the background, a straight river with a thousand million concentrically overlapping waves, rippling together as rain fell out of the gloomy clouds, patternless to infinity. A playground, plastic and wood and steel, jungle gym and swings, slanted house; sitting damply in the invariably existing sandbox.
I stood there, lost in the rain, until she tugged at my hand and we started forward. She. Her. The girl. For what would it be without one. As soaked as me. Ahead. Bolder, one must admit with a sense of chagrin. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.
The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second. Something glistens in her eye slightly, from the rain probably; but maybe not. My breath catches slightly in my throat. Not the rain.
The bench she leads me to is covered by the tent, but only barely. Wind shifts and rain blows in sideways and up and down and we sit there. Staring at each other. Saying little. She makes this expression. As hard to describe as she is. For what adjectives run together to make a person like her. It's sad, hangdog, heartbreaking. I have no idea why. Or what it means. Or what I should do. All I want to do is kiss her. Instead I smile at her, laugh, coward that I am.
Her normal face is back. I mention that expression she had on. No explanation but it comes back, and I lurch inside. It's easier to not kiss her then admit everything that would come with leaning over and slowly kissing her rain covered pink lips, moving closer on the bench... I do nothing.
I condemn myself, as I sit here in the damp. Sparkles of rain hitting our faces. I think too much. The ramifications. The possibilities. Time. Distance. Life. Feelings. Emotions. Does she want me to kiss her. What happens if I do. What's next, what's the second after, rejection, a kiss back, there's only a couple of days here... I hesitate, lost in the moment before the moment.
Normal her is back, momentarily. I reach for strength. Although I know not what for. To kiss her? To not kiss her? To flee? To stay? My head races, because I'm an idiot, a fool, lost, scared. Frightened of her and myself and us and life. The rain flows still, wavering in the background, a dense background coating the world outside of our shelter.
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