a/n: i love it when it rains, don't you?
-x-
olette
It didn't rain often in a town permanently bathed in sunset (or sunrise, nobody really knew), but every once in a while she'd wake up to skies of gray instead of orange and tiny streams of water racing down her window.
And Olette would smile. It would be a smile of relief and happiness and exhaust, but mostly relief. Relief from a world that never changed, never moved, always stood still in the golden glow of twilight.
It was so refreshing to wake up without the sun.
pence
He had never seen the rain.
According to the townsfolk (he couldn't remember names, just blurred faces and monotonous lives) it rained at least once every year, and according to the droplets of water clinging to the sides of almost everything, Pence missed it every time.
His eyes would open and the wispy remnants of clouds would be drifting away lazily, leaving behind puddles that shimmered in the fading (always fading, never faded) sunlight. And Olette would be in a better mood than usual, causing him to return her smile, but silently say, "This just isn't fair."
hayner
Rain was a nuisance.
Hayner would always just happen to get caught in the middle of it. It'd soak his clothes, his skin, his hair, and a chill would seep into his bones; a chill so deep, that no matter how close he sat to the fireplace, it wouldn't go away. At least, not until the first ray of sunshine came knocking on his door, her green eyes sparkling.
It would cause frowns and questions and accusations ("What were you doing out so late?") that resulted in replies that were never answers and a string of curses that always got caught in the doorway.
Yes, rain was a nuisance. But so was he.
roxas
Whenever it rained, Roxas felt sad. He didn't know why and, if he was being honest with himself, didn't really want to.
It reminded him of flickering neon signs, shielded eyes, and the feel of his hands in a pair of wet leather gloves. But he didn't ask questions, because he didn't want answers. He didn't want to know the face behind the glowing emerald eyes (always watching), or the reason he saw red hair out of the corner of his eye. With answers, come responsibilities. And he just didn't want to be responsible for the man clad in black, fighting shadows with fire.
So he ignored it all the best he could, and when no one was looking, he would sneak out to stand in the rain. Just stand there.
Because it felt familiar, somehow.
