That melancholy gaze always got to him. The fire in her eyes that died out long ago.
Sometimes when he sees her sleeping, curled up in the silky white sheets it's like watching a crumpled up piece of paper laying there all alone and forgotten.
Seeing her like this is what hurt the most.
Other times when he sees her mercilessly slaughtering men she's just like ice, he knows that with one touch he could melt her.
But he couldn't give her that. There is a war coming and he is sure to die. That touch would stain her forever, she doesn't need anymore of that.
His only goal is to create a peaceful world, the one his Angel has always dreamed of. And for her to see it, with him or without. He will not give up until he knows she will see it.
But for now they're stuck in this world filled with rain. Until that day of peace comes it will remain raining, his tears pouring from the sky: that's what it is.
With mindfulness he listened to the rain pouring, he gazed at the droplets of water streaming down the window. It holds its own kind of beauty, one that is very difficult to see for a shallow eye. It only sees the grey clouds and empty wilderness. He always wondered if konan could see it. If she overlooked the grey clouds.