RAINBOW-
I sit here, looking through the glass as any other day. My feelings are irrelevant at this point. Nothing matters but the rain dripping down from the roof to slide along the window. I sit in the curve of wood, making the windowsill and am reminded strangely of a cage. The sky is dark, ominous and murky. Nevertheless, it holds my attention as strong as a bright blue sky would. Will there be a display of colors after this storm, the light refracting past condensing water and the lingering moisture in the air? I am not one for predictions that I'm not completely sure on.
I have lived in this sturdy old house for six years now. I am an adult now.
My face mirrors the window and the window mirrors my face. We each have tracks of water trickling down steadily.
Why am I crying? I do not know.
It happens on every large scale storm (much like this one). It has been this way for two years. Two years too long in my opinion.
He left (me) on a night like this.
In my hands, calloused from work and wear, is a steaming cup of tea that I have yet to drink from. He used to make me hot chocolate at times like this. Warning me that sitting so near to the cool glass will catch me a cold, he would sit in the recliner next to me and sip his green tea.
I hated it.
The taste was bitter and sharp. I preferred a creamy, smooth, sweet taste caressing my tongue. I was always the child and he the adult.
I liked my old role better than the one I took over for him and I still hate the liquid in my cup. That much has not changed.
In my lap is a picture secured in glass with a wooden frame. It is chipped near the edges, a corner of the delicate paper inside poking out form a crack. The scene in it is happy and bright. It does not belong in this room. My mood and the weather outside make it seem surreal and I cannot bring myself to glance down at it.
I miss the old days. I want them (him) back.
Often I dream of those colourful days filled with laughter and the whiff of competition lurking in the air.
'See that, teme? I told you I could make it back home on my own.'
'Hn.'
'Admit it! You were wrong and I was right. You did not have to walk me home.'
'Dobe.'
'Teme.'
We stubbornly turn away from each other; he walks away towards his home. But I secretly have a smile on my face. I know that he does too.
In a particularly loud blast, light spreads on the street below my window.
My heart stops.
I see him, standing there, walking away from me again with a confident gait in his stride.
As I hurriedly stand, the picture falls from its perch on my thighs and crashes to the ground, miraculously not breaking. I drink the not cool tea in a large gulp and grimace at the bitterness (so much like him), throw the cup on the recliner and run out of the house, nearly forgetting to shut the front door in my haste.
I run out onto the middle of the road, jerking my head in the direction he went, trying to spot him in the distance. It is cold and I am wet, so dark that I can barely see.
Another flash of lightning brightens the street.
He is turning the corner. The back of his spiky head turns into a profile view and I think I see a smirk there.
But I do not care.
Running after him, my lungs burning, I somehow manage to always stay just enough away that I cannot quite reach him. Had I been paying attention, I would have known where he was headed.
My feet come to a halt at the red letters displaying Ichiraku's ramen house and I stare at the closed shop with an expression torn between forlorn and excitement.
'You promised you'd treat me to ramen if I beat you!'
'Hn. Exactly. If you beat me, which you didn't.'
'I did so! I won the bet fair and square, so pay up teme!'
He sighs with an exaggerated rolling of his eyes and nods to the man waiting for my order. My eyes light up and I grin.
Mud creeping into my raw feet snaps me out of my memory lane daze.
I look around.
Where did he go?
I panic.
Have I lost my one chance? He has to be here somewhere; the dirty bastard was probably just hiding from the rain, not wanting to get wetter than he already must be.
I see a figure onto of a building to my right. Is it him? I'm not sure. The figure is facing me, turning away just as a flash lights up the smirk on his face. He is leaping away.
I follow.
I stop on a large water tank, my footsteps echoing on the empty space inside. I have lost track of him.
The rain is pounding in my ears. It is so loud I can barely think. It s constant thump, thump, thump is driving me insane. My own blood pulsing harshly through my veins isn't helping matters.
I bellow out his name with all of the voice I can muster. The call is washed out by a crack of thunder.
"SASUKE!!!" I call again, loud enough for me to hear myself say it. But still so quiet compared to the raging storm.
In defeat I fall to my knees with a dull thump, pain shooting up past my knees. I cannot distinguish my tears from the water already on my face. I am soaked from head to foot.
My hands scrunch up to grip something that is not there.
I pause.
Bringing my fist up to my face I see a faded headband inside of it. One that I have not seen in years. The Hokage had confiscated it before I had the chance to take it.
It has a blue ribbon supporting a large metal plate, Konoha leaf symbol engraved into it and a scratch just off center of the symbol.
How could it have gotten there? Am I hallucinating this? Maybe this is some cruel genjutsu somebody placed on me.
Either way, at this moment I do not care. I merely cradle the object close to me, and rock back and forth on my legs, whispering his name.
I am crying in the rain. But my reflection in the metal says I am smiling.
This storm will end, I think. Eventually something good will come from it. We will have a rainbow.
I do not notice the smirking figure disappearing into the night.
AN: The ending was meant to be undefined and interpreted differently by whoever read it. I'd like to hear what some of you thought.
