I'VE BEEN FALLING LIKE THE RAIN, YOU'VE GOT YOUR UMBRELLA IN MY WAY
Thanks to my friend, B, for the idea. Love you B, you are the best!:)
This is my take on heartbreak and the rain. Oneshot. Intended for no specific couple, but I'd love to dedicate this to my beloved Naley--coz i really do remember them when it rains :)
He used to love the rain, did. Things change, they changed. Now he hated it but secretly, deep inside, she still did.
On the way home, she watched the raindrops glide down the windshield of the car. She remained on the passenger seat realizing that someone else was driving. It wasn't him and probably, it will never be again. She looked up at these weightless beads of precipitation gently and naturally falling from the limitless sky and felt all her hopes condense like the rain.
It happened during the rainy days when the air was usually frigid and the streets unavoidably wet. They used to amble together under one umbrella through the alley of trees leading to the campus. They would walk back and forth that same grimy and polluted road in pursuit of something spontaneous to do. The mud splatters on her legs, the puddle of water that soaked his shoes, the restricted extent of the umbrella that caused them to compress together while sauntering through that unpleasant avenue where she began to feel so incredibly close to him.
In the evening, he'd take her home. And she'd take pleasure in traffic. The gleaming red light, the vertical array of the cars ahead, the damp road in the distant horizon, and beside her--him. That one person who meant everything to her at that moment, in that one single moment inside the car when the only people present were the both of them. What else could matter?
He'd release the umbrella after getting out the car, approach the opposite side and open the door for her. He'd walk her up those slippery steps that led to the front door of her house. Their silent understanding, their patient footsteps, their sweet goodnight that consisted of nothing but anticipation for another night to spend in the same way.
She watched the raindrops glide down the windshield of the car. She'd remember how much they craved for the rain, their spontaneous rendezvous under the descending drops of liquid. The stolen glances, sweet kisses, his lingering touch. Those moments were gone now. But to where? She didn't know. Somewhere along the way, along with the rain, the passion had washed away.
He used to love the rain. But just like the weather, he had changed. He now complained to her about the weather, how eager he became in the presence of rain. And that was when she knew, in the stillness of the sky with the rain cascading down the earth, she knew everything had changed. She watched the signal light turn green. It was time to move on. Will he follow? We'll never know.
She used to love the rain, how she fell effortlessly like it and how it suddenly, although shortly, washed over the both of them. He had always hated the rain but secretly, she loved it. And secretly, she still does.