Here it is, another drabble. I'm going through and cleaning up my spirals.


Rain.

It was raining. It always was on days like these.

I sat down on the uncomfortable, plastic chair next to the hospital bed. The heart monitor beeped steadily, and the rain banged against the window like little fists.

"Max. What are you doing here?" His voice was raspy, and rough, like he'd been crying.

"Fang, please. You don't belong here."

"Yes, I do."

I saw him shake his head slightly, telling me to drop it. We had had this discussion many times before. And every time I caved and left.

And everytime, it was raining. Like God was crying with me.


Review!