The Feeling Of Rain
Harry stood at the kitchen counter, gazing out the window at the rain as it fell in sheets. It matched the deep, unbearable throb in his chest, as he re-read the note he held tightly in one hand. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. But I can't do this anymore. I know it hurts, and it kills me to think of hurting you. But in time I'm sure you will get over it. I'm really, truly, very sorry. Draco'. Harry let out a choking sob as he balled up the letter, hurling the scrap of paper across the room, and bashed his hands on the counter. Then he reached for the knife, and drug it slowly across his wrists, smiling grimly as the blood welled up.
Draco could feel the music pounding in his chest, and it dictated every liquid move of his lithe body. His current partner on the floor wasn't important, just another faceless, nameless human, one who would read the come-hither look in his eyes, and could feel the erection beneath his tight jeans. He could fuck anyone, but it never meant anything... Nothing ever did, once he had made it into his thoughts... With a hissing, "Fuck..." Draco felt his lust cool, and knew that his plans for getting drunk and getting fucked were shot. He made his way off the dance floor, then grinned to himself. He could still get drunk... But as he made his way to the bar, a few people moved out of his way, and there, sitting at the bar and nursing a large drink, sat Harry.
Harry could feel someone watching him, but he refused to look up. His clothing would usually scream for anyone to come and offer for him, but tonight, his demeanor said otherwise, so people had kept their distance. He didn't know what had made him walk into this club tonight, as he'd never visited it before, but the name, Teardrop, fit his mood to a t. But as he took another sip of his drink, he felt the stare narrow and seem to burn a hole in his back. Finally, he looked up, and saw him. "Draco."
Harry felt the anger, nay rage, rise up like lava in his chest. The older man stared at him, frozen, his silver-blue eyes widened in shock, and suddenly, Harry couldn't take it any more. He rose fluidly from his seat, clearing a path across the room as he marched straight for Draco.
For a few moments, Draco let himself get lost in the sexy man staling toward him, murder in his eyes. His slender body was shirtless, but his lean hips and long legs were hugged by form-fitting black leather. Draco felt his breath hitch, but then Harry was standing in front of him, eye to eye. And then, Draco stumbled back as Harry's fist connected with his pretty face.
Draco landed on the floor hard, then tried to gather himself for the next attack, but wasn't fast enough. Harry landed on top of him, screaming. He grabbed Draco's blonde hair in his fists, slamming the taller man's head into the floor, causing Draco to see double. All the while, he was screaming, "You bastard, fucking asshole, goddamn you, Draco, damn you..." But the slaps and punches were getting weaker, and instead of blows, Draco realized that teardrops were raining down on him. Finally, Harry collapsed back onto his seat, sobbing, one hand holding onto Draco's shirt as though for dear life.
Draco rose to his feet, and for a moment, stared down at the sobbing Harry while his vision returned to normal. Then, gently, Draco bent down and scooped Harry up in his arms. Harry, feeling like a traitor to himself, allowed himself to be carried from the club, his arms wrapped around Draco's neck, and hiccuping sobs escaping in short bursts from his chest. Draco pulled out his wand once they were in the dark alley, and Apperated to his apartment.
Draco laid Harry gently down on the bed, murmuring softly to him. Harry slowly sat up, his eyes misty from his tears, and looked sadly up at Draco. "God, why won't you go away? For so long I've tried to forget, but even the pain won't block you out..." Draco blinked quickly, then drew in a sharp breath as he grabbed Harry's arms, turning them over so that he could see the scars up and down the once smooth flesh. He drew in a breath of anger, then jerked Harry to him. "What the hell is this shit?" He demanded. "Oh, Harry, did you do this because of me?" Harry lowered his eyes at the softened tone, and tears welled up in Draco's eyes. "Oh, Harry, I didn't know..." He lifted one arm, then the other, and slowly kissed the length of each scar, as his tears fell on them. Then he looked up, and his eyes met Harry's. And that was all it took.
Each of them felt passion ignite and lust spring to the surface. Harry twisted his arms from Draco's grasp, then grabbed the other boy's shoulders and kissed him savagely. Draco growled into Harry' mouth, then crawled on top of the smaller man, each of them tearing at the other's clothes. Breathing heavily, Draco grabbed Harry' legs and put them over his shoulders, then drove into the writhing body beneath him. Harry screamed at the intrusion and pain of no preparation, but they each knew that this was no tender love-making session. This was meant to be brutal and full of pain. Draco slammed into Harry again, and then grabbed Harry's own erection and began pumping, using nails to rake up and down his length. He leaned over, biting harshly at Harry's shoulder, as Harry returned the favor, matching bruise for bruise. Finally, they came, shuddering, but neither called out the other's name.
It seemed only moments later when they extracted themselves from the other, and slowly began to get dressed. Neither would meet the other's eyes, and they didn't know what to say. As Harry walked to the door, Draco held out his hands pleadingly and said, "Harry." The younger man turned his head to look, an small, sad smile on his face. "No, Draco. We've been alone, each of us, for too long now." And he walked out the door, shutting it firmly on his past. And as Draco hurried to the window, just in time for him to see Harry hail a taxi and leave without looking back, the rain began to fall in cold sheets. And for the first time, Draco knew just how Harry felt
Owari .