A/N: Written for the Finchel prompts, as part of the drabble list.
Prompt: Rain
"It's raining," she says, looking out the window as the tell-tale signs of falling raindrops beat against the roof. He turns his head to look down at the girl lying next to him, currently using his free arm as a pillow, and smiles.
"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, tightening his hold around her shoulder as she buries herself deeper in the crook of his body. The window is open and there's still sunlight filtering in as the light rain starts to become more visible. The smell of freshly mown grass fills the room and there's just that slight increase in temperature that comforts him. He loves it when it drizzles. He just loves the way the world looks, where everything seems to be a little brighter and the fresh smell of grass just makes everything just feel so clean and like, just rain.
He loves it when it drizzles.
It kind of sucks though that these days, that feeling comes with another, less awesome feeling. He can't help it though. Most days he forgets, most days he doesn't even remember her. But when it drizzles, he thinks about the little girl he almost (but never really) had. He remembers how much he loved her, enough to give her the name of his favorite weather. She'll never know that, and he guesses that that's a good thing.
Still.
When it drizzles, he remembers.
The mattress dips a little as Rachel moves, and suddenly two tiny, delicate hands are pressed against the sides of his face and pulling it down until his gaze meets her warm, brown orbs.
"You love it when it drizzles," she says softly, sitting up to lean her forehead against his. He leans in closer, gently brushing his lips over hers as he grins.
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?" Her voice is soft as she whispers the words, her breath fanning lightly against his skin. The way she says them with that undercurrent of understanding reminds him again of how much she just gets him. She always knows what he's thinking.
Drizzle.
Beth.
Shelby.
Maybe it's because she's thinking of the same thing too. It's another thing that anchors them together, that tethering thing again. Two different sorts of heartache combined into one. They're two different kinds of pain that led them to one another, in a way. And in that sense it was worth it. It will always be worth it. He sees the question in her eyes, and grins.
"I'm perfect."