When It's Raining
The cool, damp air from the open window blew across the room, bringing spots of invading raindrops onto the carpet and cooling Edward's flushed cheeks. He shuddered. "I hate rain," he grumbled, taking his eyes from the sheets of water blocking the window's view. Beside him, the still body suddenly stirred and Ed held his breath. Roy would insist on staying up with him if he woke and found that Edward couldn't sleep. The older man sighed, content, and then shivered, and Ed's smile turned to a frown. He felt about the bed until his flesh fingers fell upon the soft material of the quilt he'd thrown off at the sound of the first offending drop of rain. Pulling the quilt up over Roy's bare shoulder, Ed smiled wistfully and stood, making his way out the door, down the hall, to the living room. He threw a log onto the still-glowing embers in the fireplace before flopping down on the couch.
Edward sat in the window sat, eyes on the heavy, darkening clouds as thought he expected them to try to stab him in the back, when he saw Roy stroll up the stairs to the front door. He scowled as the door opened and he turned to face his unusually serene lover. "You sure are chipper today."
Roy raised an eyebrow and then mirrored Ed's scowl. "You skipped out on your paperwork."
"I did not!" Ed stood, and then became sheepish. "I actually brought it home."
Roy's look of disbelief was so intense, it was almost comical.
Ed surrendered. "I wanted to beat the rain."
"You're not going to melt, shrimp."
"Shut up!" Clenching his hands into fists, Ed turned on his heels and would have stormed off had Roy not caught his red jacket by the sleeve.
"What has gotten into you?"
"I hate the rain!"
"Why?" Roy was truly puzzled and dropped his hold on the blonde.
"It's wet and cold." Ed looked away. "I don't want to remember wet and cold."
"But you're here, Ed." Roy took a step toward him. "And you're warm and dry." He put a hand on Ed's shoulder.
Ed turned completely away, hiding the strain in his eyes. His gaze fell on the clock on the mantle, stubbornly proclaiming three o'clock even though it was well past six. "You still need to fix the clock."
"I've been saving it for the next time your mechanic comes to town." Roy gave Ed his space. "She'll get a kick out of taking it apart.
Chuckling, at the pendulum held motionless in the middle of an upward swing, Ed turned back. "Yeah, she will."
Roy shrugged out of his coat and dropped it onto a hook by the door. "Care for a drink?"
Ed eyed him suspiciously, but relented, glad for the lack of his lover's usual irritation when facing the evening and then the dark night.
Almost drunk with sleepiness, but fighting it off valiantly, Ed tore his gaze from the now crackling fire and glanced around the room, taking in the stack of paperwork sitting, untouched, on the coffee table and the half-full glass of whiskey standing, neglected, beside it. The glint from the streetlight directly outside the big bay window fell upon the mantle and the face of the clock that had been stuck at three for days. He sighed and reached for his silver pocket watch, guarding the undone paperwork. Flipping it open, he found the hands pointing resolutely to the three and the twelve. He held it to his ear and took comfort in the steady tick of the gears inside running as they should. Looking back up at the broken clock, he smiled sadly. "You were right for a minute, my friend."
Before he snapped his pocket watch closed, Edward's eyes caught the numbers scratched deeply into the inside and a tangible pain clutched his heart. The comfort of the familiar living room was suddenly washed away in a flash of lightening and he had to bite back the yelp of fear that rose in his throat. The increased pound of the rain on the roof chipped away at the wall holding back the memories trying to overwhelm his mind.
Edward's exhausted eyes frantically scanned the room and watched in horror as the fire in front of him grew and threatened to overcome the couch. Ed scrambled up the back of the couch to perch precariously on top, trembling uncontrollably.
"Stop it!" His brain screamed, but his voice was paralyzed. His thoughts melted away as a figure emerged from the flames, dragging its twisted body toward him, hoarsely calling his name.
"Edward…sweet little Edward…why?" Bloody fingers grasped at his ankles.
"You're dead!" His vocal chords refused to work and he panicked. "Leave me alone!" No one could hear him…no one would help him.
A slimy, broken hand gripped his leg and fire licked over his skin. Edward pulled his knees up and hugging them tightly to his chest, shaking uncontrollably, chanting silently to himself, "Not real…can't be real…"
"Edward! What the hell?" From the doorway, Roy saw Ed about to tumble from his perch, eyes squeezed shut and gasping for air. The fire in the fireplace was slowly crawling across the carpet and had just reached the couch. "Fuck!" He ran to the kitchen for several wet towels and quickly smothered the fire. "Damnit, how many times have I…" he swallowed his word as Ed finally found his voice and began to scream.
Roy ran around the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around Edward from behind, pulling his tight against his broad chest. Edward squirmed violently for several minutes before his short, raspy breaths slowed to match the steady rhythm of Roy's.
Finally, Ed pulled away and slid down off the couch. "I'm sorry I woke you."
A half-smile slid across Roy's lips and he took Ed's hand, leading him back to the bedroom. "You didn't wake me." He gently guided Edward into the bed and under the quilt, like he would a child. "It stopped raining." He slid in beside the younger man and wrapped his arms protectively around the lean body. Moonlight broke through the clouds to shine benignly through the window as Roy watched the dark, wet spots on the carpet fade and wondered how long it was until dawn.s