It was raining hard again; his hands were plastered on the window glass witnessing the war of heaven and earth. The night was dressed in a swart skin, the flash of lightning bolts ripping the sky into shreds danced like unwanted scars on the evening gloom. Everything beyond his vast window was being harassed by the winds that blew with all its might. The swings rocked back and forth in crazed motions almost to the point where they might, one way or another detach themselves from their metallic bonds and fly off to who knows where.

He wonders what of the little ants that fall victim to the blood above their heads? Then he would sigh at the torture they must endure just to keep their hills safe.

He looked out, the windows painting him a picture of an evening night usually used to swap stories between friends of dead women looking for lost love with a candle burning bright between them.

The lights were all out, and he has found himself trapped looking out the window. Fear was something foreign to him.

His wide orbs didn't stir nor turn from the scene, even unable to blink at the fight.

So he sat on the floor like an attentive child.

The fat drops punched his window with heavy and forceful strikes, but none strong enough as to break the window.

He could hear the sounds of shuffling amidst the rumbling from outside, and even without tearing his eyes he could feel the presence of another. He could tell his lover was standing a good distance away from him, staring at him with only the candle to serve him as light.

(SPACE HERE)

There was one candle beside Shuichi, illuminating very little of him. It was hard to see the boy from where he stood; none of these waxed things helped him. He knows where Shuichi is but he could not tell the strange expression creeping at the young boy's usually happy face.

He stayed by the door and pretended that he did not exist.

Shuichi is different in the presence of darkness, lightning and rain all thrown together at once.

The blond writer wanted to see his face during these times; it is only now the boy's face would change ever so dramatically. He saw this face too before, but the blackout that caused that expression lasted like a flicker and the pop star reverted back to his crazy old self.

Yuki wanted to see that look of strangeness looming over the violet orbs once more.

There has to be meaning behind those looks, why would they appear only when these phenomena happens. Everything was born from something, and so were these mournful glances that Shuichi makes only in the world where all the lights are off.

(SPACE HERE)

A/N: And that concludes this one-shot, inspired by the Three Witches from Macbeth. Thanks for tuning in folks!