A/N: Not exactly a songfic, but based on three songs, which are then broken up into three "parts". I extended it a little after the advice of a reviewer, so if it works out well, please leave a review. :) The two other chapters will be posted eventually. Song titles can be posted upon request. Thanks!

Part 1-Llovera

Looking out the window just darkened her already sullen mood as tears slipped from her eyes onto the drapes. Outside, drop after drop fell from the graying clouds, the sun appearing to struggle beneath the clouds before being consumed by the rain. Almost in defeat, she rested her head against the glass, breathing quietly.

The invasive touches her new supervisor had put on her today still lingered on her skin like smoke; they weren't quite touching her, but they still existed and swept over her. She opened her eyes so she could stare at the sky above her, instead of continuing to picture his smirk as he had brushed his hand against her breast before quickly moving his hand away. For others, it would have almost looked like an accident. She knew it was intentional in every way possible.

The comments he made, the derogatory statements, the invading glances, and the greasy attitude toward anything she carried on herself was taking a toll on both her performance at work, and her attitude towards her husband at home. She fantasized about reporting creep. They would take him away in handcuffs, everyone's eyes wide with shock as their new prized employee was charged with sexual harassment. And there she would be, smirking at him from across the room as they took him away. The bubble popped when she realized what had happened to the last woman who attempted to report harassment. She was fired when the majority-men population at her job didn't believe her, claiming she was looking for a lawsuit to get money.

She knew Arnold wasn't responsible for the actions of men as a whole, but in the back of her mind, she felt that marriage had somehow weakened her strong and fierce attitude once she had changed from Helga Pataki to Helga "Arnold's wife" Shortman. Ten years ago, she would have punched the creep in the face with Ol Betsy and essentially beat the shit out of him. Now, she wasn't even sure she would report him. She knew she couldn't possibly tell her husband. A year ago she would have known exactly what course of action Arnold would have taken. Today, she wasn't even sure what Arnold wanted for dinner. She couldn't deny that she had gradually changed, once she had married. Sometimes, if she didn't stop herself, she would look at Arnold with resentment in her eyes. More recently, he had begun to look at her the same way.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. Her left hand suddenly felt a little heavier.

Her husband was in the bedroom, in an equally depressed mood. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his tired eyes rest on the rain that fell on the other side of the glass, some of it catching onto the window and sliding down before pooling on the sill. His hands lay clasped on his lap while small tears dripped onto them, falling onto his fingers.

Their argument had begun almost a week ago, and hadn't gone away. The more time they spent apart, the more bitter they became as each struggled to add more hours onto their already overpowering shifts at their respective jobs. Flower orders kept pouring in as the damp weather kept the flowers of Hilwood fresh and springing with life, creating an environment of stress at the flower shop that Arnold managed almost alone now. His other two employees took off weeks ago for vacation, leaving him with the responsibility of single-handedly running the store. As the clouds kept coming and coming, so did more weddings and funerals and birthday parties and graduations that never seemed to end. No matter how many more hours he put in, he still didn't feel like the wave of orders had become any more manageable. He honestly wished things would let up for him, at least for a little while.

On top of the stressful weeks at work, Helga never seemed to ask him how his day was going anymore. She never offered help when she walked by him, his entire desk covered in papers filled with orders due the next day or the next week or the next month. She only looked off distantly, as if her eyes were glazed over with something else. He figured she must have something enormous going on at work that he couldn't be a part of, because one day when he asked, she shut down.

"Nothing is going on at work. It's this big project that I really need to concentrate on. I'd appreciate it if you didn't meddle into it because I can't lose focus of it or I'll lose my job."

And that was it.

He'd taken a step back from her after her answer, and merely nodded his head, walking back to the mountain of orders waiting for him. He hadn't felt like asking her again after that.

And then there was the resentment in her eyes. Something he couldn't shake off.

He'd noticed it one day when he was about to turn out the light for bed. As he looked over at her to see if she was asleep, his eyes were met with her large blue eyes looking at him with blame. And then it was gone. She smiled, said goodnight, and went to sleep, drawing the covers up to her shoulder. The snapped response he could take, but the blame in her eyes? He couldn't figure out how to reenter her world again without being pushed back out. He wanted to know what it was he had done to make her look at him like that. But he knew if he was going to receive an answer as cryptic as her response to what was going on, he didn't want to fight. It wasn't long before he realized he was looking at her the same away.

He let his head drop into his hands, the tears slowly pooling into his hands.

As they both stayed in their own self-made corners of the apartment, the rain continued to patter against their home above the flower shop. Some roses on the window sill were slowly leaning forward with the force of the raindrops.