A/N – I love Julian from Dalton, & I love the rain just like him.
DISCLAIMER – Cp Coulter owns all the characters in this, which are from her fic Dalton. It's one of the greatest things I've ever read and you should all go read it. I promise you will not be disappointed.
However, her fic is based off Glee which RIB own.
It was a routine now. He'd all but run outside and stop dead, raising his head; closing his eyes; spreading out his arms; taking it all in. The droplets would caress his face, numbing the skin gently, and cascade down his body, drenching the clothes he wore. His bare feet would almost turn blue from the cold, but he'd never notice. The numbing feeling of freedom was too perfect to notice such a thing.
Breathing in slowly, the smell of mud; grass; nature would soar upwards into his nose, reminding him of the beauty the world possessed. Seconds passed, and eventually he let out a shuddery breath due to holding the air for too long, wanting to keep the smell, the feeling; clinging to it as if his life depended on those precious seconds.
A pink tongue would dart out to lick his also almost blue lips, tasting the rain. He'd shiver as the flavourless liquid touched his taste buds. Cold and refreshing. Tasteless and free. Spinning slowly on the spot, a smile would break free and a laugh would slip out of his smile.
Another intake of breath, and he'd open his eyes. He looked at the sky as if it was the first time. The clouds, a mixture of greys and whites, swirled about above him as if they were in a cauldron, cooking up the magic that was rain. Shooting downwards like spells, the droplets sparkled, making loud, messy splats! As they fell onto his face.
The sky would yell at him in a loud, bossy tone, warning him off, but he'd just ignore the shouts because he was fearless. He was free.
Xxx
They'd watch, amusement and wonder clear in their affectionate gazes as the boy danced in the rain, laughing in utmost joy. The shorter of the two watching would cross his arms, leaning against the frame of the open door, one eyebrow raised and a soft smile playing on his lips. The other would just stand with his back straight, showing off good posture with his arms placed in front of him, cocking his head to the left, slightly.
Eventually, the boy's name would be shouted, overpowering the booms the sky produced, and he'd stop dead. Turning to face his friends, they'd usher him over holding a large fluffy towel. So he'd march over, breaking into a run to reach them before they left to go about their own business, because really, they had enough on their hands without the added pressure of a sick celebrity complaining all the time about how ill he feels. Dripping wet, he'd smile sheepishly before the towel being thrown over his head, the overwhelming scent of lavender seeping into his nostrils.
Personally, he preferred the scent he experienced only moments before being ushered back in from the rain.