Fleeting Moments
By Dan'yu
Drabble #25: Storm
The water was cool against his bare skin, raising goose bumps in the chill made by the autumn rain. Rain fell in torrents, in thick, impenetrable sheets that obscured any vision more than a few inches before his eyes. The skies were an endless puzzle of wild patterns of gray and black and cobalt blue, violently changing as the rain pelted down, lightning crashed in the clouds and thunder rumbled prophetically in the distance.
He closed his eyes and threw back his head, the pelting droplets harsh against vulnerable, naked skin as he stood shirtless in the middle of the storm. Rivulets streamed down his face, plastering his hair against his skull. The tension faded from his body in the wake of the renewing vigor of the storm, as the water washed over him, his anger and pain faded with it. His body finally calmed in the violent aftermath of his Black episode.
So little time had passed since that day he had gone to Rin in the hospital, and with a handful of careless words, had his heart ripped to shreds and shoved back at him. He was haunted by dark eyes that had once looked at him with such love and warmth frozen and distant beyond redemption, the cold ice of hatred freezing them against his silent pleas for forgiveness and understanding.
"HARU! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!"
Haru slowly turned his head toward the front door of his home to find his mother standing in the entrance, staring at him in horror and puzzled concern. "Haru! Come inside right now!"
His lips, long turned blue in the cold, slowly curled into a mirthless smile, imagining her shock at finding her son half-naked in the middle of the yard during a rainstorm. What would the neighbors think? What could be wrong with her odd, troubled son now?
He turned back toward the house, and began trudging through the yard quickly deepening in water. His jeans were caked in mud from the knees down, the heavy denim fabric formfitting in their soaked state, completely drenched through. When he finally made his way through the door, his mother surprised him all over again as she threw a towel around his shoulders and another at his head, vigorously drying his hair.
"My Gods, Haru! You could make yourself ill doing things like that."
He blinked at her through the folds of the towel, his face falling into his customary blank expression, feeling mildly surprised that as she led him to the living room, she did not say a word about the mud he was trailing on the clean carpets. Instead, she hovered like a mother hen.
"What am I going to do with you? You're going to march yourself to the shower right now and warm yourself up! You could have caught your death out there! I'll make you some tea when you're done, and then we'll see if I should call Hatori-san. Honestly, Haru! What were you thinking?"
Wordlessly, Haru, unnoticing of the sudden warmth, stared down at his mud-caked feet as she continued to towel him off.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
"It-It hurts."
The broken, hoarse quality to his voice must have caught her attention, because she paused in her ministrations and looked at him with a worried gaze. "What hurts?"
"My heart."