Disclaimer: I own no PoT. …it's expensive. Uhm, but Takeshi Konomi's loaded.

Author's ramble: I don't put it beyond Shinji to be a little unstable in that head of his. But I do put it beyond myself to write something that makes much sense. Then again, this is Shinji's mind we're prodding at, I don't figure it's supposed to make a whole bunch of sense.

Continuous Patter

Ichigo Morino (6-9-04)

It had rained all day. Shinji had dreamt it was raining. And it continued to rain.

There was something playing on TV about hydroplaning cars and various accidents downtown. It droned on and on and repeated itself as if on loop. Shinji didn't get up to change it; he didn't see the point. If he were to turn off the TV, it would continue running in his head regardless. Hydroplaning and accidents.

Ibu Shinji sat at the desk in his room, gray light pouring in through the blinds of his window. He didn't turn on the lamp; it was annoying. Every so often the tiny bulb would give off an annoyed buzz in response to its use. It was too sporadic and sudden for Shinji's liking. It threw his mind off. He couldn't stand things like that, not when his mind was wandering.

He didn't let his mind wander often. It hurt. A dull, uneasy sort of hurt; the sort of pain you feel when you know you should be feeling something but you aren't there yet, as if something's on the brink of happening. And you wonder why it hasn't happened yet because waiting for it is the hardest part. You aren't ever sure when it will come, but you know it will. And it's the waiting that gets you.

Shinji turned off the TV, but he didn't remember getting up or sitting back down. Maybe he hadn't turned off the TV. "…when Myako Kusanagi was finally rushed to the hospital after her near-fatal…" the TV continued to sing in Shinji's ears. Or his head.

His mind had been wandering and he didn't like that. He didn't know why he let it. It let itself. He was home and alone and that's why it wandered. He liked the rain and the quiet but it made his mind wander. He didn't like people but they kept his mind in place.

His mind was a treacherous thing.

The phone wasn't ringing and it was raining. It would rain and rain and rain, Shinji knew. For days and maybe weeks.

Shinji sometimes imagined the ground opening up and swallowing the rain and the people, but he didn't dream it, so he knew it would never happen. He wouldn't wait for it. It didn't matter.

Shinji dreamt of things and it drove him insane waiting for them sometimes. So many times he didn't remember them until after it came, and that was the worst. Waiting for something uncertain was the worst. He didn't like waiting; he tried not to wait. His mind waited, and he couldn't escape his mind.

A few months ago, it had been strange. Shinji was on cleaning duty. He'd mumble as he wiped the desks; he never realized what he was mumbling about, just that he was mumbling. He figured he wasn't meant to know, because his mind spoke, not he.

Mori was on cleaning duty, too. He didn't say much to Shinji, but then he had. He hadn't looked well all day, someone had commented at practice. "I had a disturbing dream…" Mori had said.

Shinji had looked over, not curious but wary.

"I shouldn't care, but I can't stop thinking about it. The school was in flames but I don't remember why or how, only the fire." Then Mori shrugged softly, as if telling someone had chased it from his memory.

Shinji had stopped and his mind had quieted. For a week it had stayed in the back of his mind, but the school didn't burn down and Shinji figured it wasn't his own dream, it wasn't his own to dwell on.

Not being with Kamio disquieted him. Kamio's mind was always stable, even though it raced like the rest of him. It was stable like Shinji's was not.

Shinji wanted to move. Instead he let night come and the day turned anew. He dreamt of a streak of red and something catching his arm and heat. He woke up with a fever.

Shinji was always pale, it didn't matter. It was still raining but for a minute it stopped. The clouds held back until practice was half underway before they rippled again and it began to pour.

You couldn't tell with Shinji, whether he was ill or not.

They walked home in the rain because Shinji had shrugged in indifference and Kamio was holding a jacket over his dark red hair.

It was no good, Shinji thought, because now it was too hot and the street was swimming more than it should. Maybe it wasn't the street but his vision, his mind suggested, but he didn't like agreeing with his mind so he pushed the thought aside.

Then he saw the streak but he couldn't see much else. His eyes were open, he thought, but they refused to see anything. Kamio's arm had fastened on his own. That was good, Shinji thought, because he wasn't sure if he was still standing or not.

It was very hot. Then it was warm for a minute and then it was black.

Shinji awoke in his own room. The sporadic buzz of the desk lamp had brought him about.

"Turn it off," he mumbled, wondering if Kamio would comply.

He opened his eyes to the blurry gray light spilling through the window. It was nearly blue with evening.

He turned to where he knew Kamio was, on that chair at the desk. He remembered this from his dream, but this part was something he only now remembered. Maybe he hadn't dreamt this part, but maybe he had. He never knew with anything for certain.

"You idiot, you should've said you were running a fever," Kamio said from the desk, vague complaint in his tone.

"It doesn't matter," Shinji mumbled, not because of his mind but because of his fever. He turned to see Kamio better, even though the red, peach, and black blur didn't become any clearer.

"Of course it matters," Kamio told him, knowing he didn't need to list any particular reason.

"It's going to keep on raining…and there'll be more hydroplaning cars, and bicycles aren't doing that great either," Shinji murmured, closing his eyes and continuing to see the image before him in his mind's eye.

"And practice'll be canceled too many times," Kamio added.

"That," Shinji confirmed, in the same way a fortuneteller would agree with a client that had glimpsed at the future correctly.

Shinji heard Kamio stand from the chair. "I don't think you're supposed to go yet," he instructed in mumble, quite inaudibly.

"I don't think so either," Kamio agreed.

"There's nothing to do when it rains," Kamio added after a minute of silence. Shinji had felt him taking a seat on the bed somewhere next to his covered arm. He half wanted to push the covers off, but not enough to bother. "It's too muddy to jog and no one's on the street courts."

"Don't go to school tomorrow," Kamio spoke once more, now apparently closer to Shinji because the boy could hear him louder.

"I won't stay here…at least at school something happens and it isn't in my head…here there's just the TV and that annoying lamp," Shinji informed him, his eyes slowly focusing on what was most likely Kamio's face hovering above him.

"I'll come over tomorrow and I'll bring you McDonald's, if you want something to happen; go to school again and you'll get worse, then you won't be able to come to practice when the damn rain stops," Kamio retorted, quite used to this sort of vague argument.

Then the red-haired boy leaned down. Shinji felt warmth against his face, against his lips. He figured he had closed his eyes, because everything was pleasantly black.

Kamio stayed there a few minutes longer, until the patter of rain outside calmed and Shinji had slid into something of a half-sleep. Then he quietly stood and just the same stepped out of the room.

"You better show up tomorrow before the TV starts droning again," Shinji mumbled. Somehow he knew Kamio had heard him.

Owari