Prompt Two from Bubbly88Tay :) Just a reminder if you haven't yet read her stories you should either a) do that now or b) go dig yourself a hole because that's how good she is.
This one is a bit heavier than the last one. There's a really slight trigger warning for suicidal thoughts implied, but it's barely mentioned and it shouldn't be a problem.
He loved the rain growing up.
He used to spend minutes, hours just sitting in the rain, the water soaking his thoughts. As a kid, he would sleep, or sometimes run around in it. He loved it, loved watching the drops hit the ground, loved listening to the sounds it made and loved feeling the water beneath his clothes, drenching them, embracing his hot skin.
But when his life was pouring out of him, he wanted nothing more than the rain to stop.
That, along with someone to find him before it was too late.
The windows in his apartment wasn't thick enough to be sound proof to any degree, and no matter how he drew the curtains together, he couldn't ignore the rain, he couldn't shake the desperate feeling from him.
He had been crying, he had pulled his badge off and threw it somewhere, he'd sat by the window in his living room with a bottle of beer and his gun in it's holster.
He didn't think he would be able to stop himself if he took it out.
He hated raining nights now. He hated them with such a passion and he wanted it to stop so bad. He hated rain, and the depressing feeling it cast over everything. He couldn't remember how he used to feel the good, the comfort in it, how he used to feel it with each and every of his cells. He couldn't bring that feeling back.
He was so tired. The sky wasn't anything along the lines of pleasant, the clouds hung too long, making him feel claustrophobic and sick. The tears that couldn't stop pouring out of his eyes didn't seem to stop, either.
He wanted the rain to stop pouring from the sky, because maybe, just maybe, his life would stop pouring out of him too.
He wanted it to stop raining, to stop raining so much that he felt helpless. Desperate. He was crying, sobbing over what his life has became, over his past, his memories.
He tried to calm himself down, leaning against his couch, his hands over his ears, eyes clenched closed. He tried to block the rain out, he tried to picture a brighter sky outside, not the gloomy grey clouds weighing down.
He didn't want to be thinking.
He didn't know what drove him to, but eventually he gave in and pulled his gun out of the shiny black holster. His hand felt around for the trigger.
He hadn't brought it up to anything yet, he just held it, felt it's weight in his palms. He thought about all of the people he had shot with it, and flinched.
Don't think, don't think.
It was a restless feeling, the rain, and it sent him into a restless mood. It was wet outside, not the soothing wet but the hot and sticky wet.
And while everything around him was restless, it made him think. Thinking was never something good. He hated thinking, almost as much and he hated rain.
His thumb swept across the body of the gun. He wanted it to stop. He wanted everything, everything to stop, so bad.
A rushed raps of knuckles broke off his thoughts. He didn't stand up, he didn't get the door. Maybe whoever was on the other side would think no one was home.
Another rush of the pounding on the door. "Halstead! It's Erin!"
He reloaded his gun.
"Jay! I'm breaking into your door!" A bullet shot through it's lock and the door was kicked open.
He cast his look downwards into his lap, with a knowing expression and somewhat the teensiest of a smile. Someone cared for him enough to shoot directly through a lock for him.
"Jay? What the hell?"
His hand moved to the trigger.
"Jay, is that a gun? Put the gun down! Now!"
If you're going to do it, it's now.
"Jay!"
A sob escaped his lips. He cocked his gun upwards.
"Jay, are you okay? Jay? Put the gun down."
"I just—I just want the rain to fucking stop."
"Jay, put the gun down."
"I don't know, I just hate everything I've seen, I hate everything I've done. And I hate you, Lindsay, I hate you." He slurred, tears laced in his voice.
"Jay? Are you okay?"
"I hate you. I hate how I love how you make me feel, and yet I can't have you and I hate this. I hate this life and I hate everything I'm doing. I hate everything I did and everyone I killed. I hate this. I hate the rain."
"Jay, are you drunk? Come on, put the gun down."
"Maybe." He felt sick in his stomach.
"Jay, come on, put the gun down, and we'll talk this out. What's bothering you?" She asked softly, slowly inching towards him.
"The rain, Erin, I hate the rain. I used to love it, you know?"
"Yeah? Tell me about the rain, then." She slowly reached out for a direction he couldn't see for his hand.
"I don't know, I don't know. I used to love it, I don't know, I used to love the rain. It was…soothing. I loved it. But I hate the rain. I hate the rain now. It's…it's depressing, it's just gloomy and restless and—" She grabbed the gun from his hand and took the bullet cartage out, the bullets falling one by one on the floor. "—And I don't know, it's just like my life is pouring out of me." He was slowly crying, his head hitting his knee that was brought up to his chest. He let the gun go when she grabbed it. He was too tired to fight.
"Is this all about the rain outside?"
He leaned towards her, falling into her embrace.
"Jay, how much did you drink?" She hugged his head against her chest, kneeling by the couch.
"A bottle. I swear, I didn't drink a lot. I just wanted to forget."
"Jay, next time this happens you need to call me. Why didn't you pick up your phone?"
"I didn't hear it." He leaned his head back. It wasn't like he would have picked up even if he did.
"Jay…did you take a shower yet? It's late, go to bed."
"I just…I just want the rain to stop."
"I know, Jay, I know. And I do to."
He laid in her embrace, closing his eyes and blocking everything out. The sound of the rain, his thoughts, everything.
"Go take a shower and go to bed." She muttered into his ear a moment later. "It's late, Halstead, and we got work tomorrow."
He got up with her help, his legs still numb from the hours of still sitting. He shook his limbs awake and headed for his bathroom.
"Lindsay?" He called out weakly before closing the door. "Can you stay until the rain ends?"
"I'm here. I'll always be here."
The sunlight seeping through the cracks between the blinds woke him up rather than his alarm clock.
He opened his eyes, squinting as he turned his head around and saw a familiar figure with her arm around his waist.
He got up and drew open the blinds, and despite the wet pavement, the sun was shining. It was no longer raining.
He'd made it another day.
"Jay?"
He turned around, grinning.
"What the hell are you smiling about?"
He flashed her his signature grin and laughed lightly.
"It stopped raining."