(A/N): me myself: So what if ... instead of updating TIWTW ... I uploaded an old vent fic
Hello, everyone! Really hope you're all doing well, keeping sane and healthy, what with COVID-19. Stay safe out there, everyone. Feel free to tell me how quarantine's going for you.
Yeahh, so! Managed to get me a boyfriend a little over a year ago (my first time falling for anyone, ever, what a trip), and then not much later got broken up with. I started this crummy old thing set in some generic high school AU about a year ago, trying to spew words in the hope that it would help, never finished, then decided out of the blue I wanted to slap more onto this and got it vaguely proofread. My eyeballs can't look at this anymore, just take it.
If he had to describe the last two months in a word, Jay's first thought would be rain.
But not just any rain.
There was the kind of rain that had been his favorite, ever since he was old enough to go missing in storms and give his parents heart attacks. The kind of rain that came with storms, turbulent and roiling, sheets of watery wrath drumming against the roof of his trailer home. The kind that choked out the sky until a blaze of lightning crackled throughout the sky, and a peal of thunder shook under his feet and he could hear the scrap falling off heaps and clanging to the ground.
That wasn't the right kind of rain, though, see.
It had been the kind of rain hitting the sidewalk of the bus stop the worst morning in the year, when every night of staying up late to avoid the next day came back to bite him, every anxiety-fueled moment of procrastination slammed into him, and Jay finally had to face the music. The only thing keeping him together at the seams was talking to Nya, his friend of the last two years.
It was the kind of rain that would trail down the windows when he stayed up late, calling Nya with his door locked, fussing over calculus and physics homework together but lingering a few more hours afterwards to tell her about his day and hear about hers, to wisecrack and be rewarded with her ringing laughter and feel his cheeks hurt from how wide his grin was.
The raindrops against the glass weren't loud enough to drown out her voice, or the pounding in his chest.
It was the kind of rain making little puddles in the ground that he forgot to avoid because he was so preoccupied with the fluttering in his stomach, the grin making his cheeks hurt, the giddiness from hearing her admit she loved him—that it didn't really matter if his shoes got a little soaked. He'd air them out, anyway.
It was the kind of rain that pattered softly on the asphalt, as the sky split into soft, watery rays of light when they walked outside, having stayed after school for a robotics club meet, giggling about trying to avoid getting caught holding hands, and the air was crisp and cool but he felt warm and complete. Nya laughed as she remembered how badly they'd messed up part of a command, and the soft light brought out the hints of gold in her hazel eyes.
His knees stayed weak long after he walked her to the school gates.
It was the kind of rain that got in his eyes and dampened his hair and seeped into his skin when he was idiot enough to forget his umbrella at home, but it was alright because Nya had a pretty red one big enough for the both of them. When she spread it over their heads and smiled at him, Jay couldn't quite remember how to breathe and Nya giggled at how he sputtered.
They went to her house that day after school (because Kai was protective, but at least he knew to leave them alone). So maybe they were supposed to be working on a bottle rocket for physics, but they'd already made so much progress, surely it could wait a little while. The pitter-patter of water on the earth was so soothing… and it wasn't like anyone needed to know they'd done nothing but cuddle on her bed and stare into each others' eyes and whisper soft, giddy "I love you"s and hug like they were the only ones left in the world.
The sky was placid that day. Blueish-grey, sun watery and clouds wispy grey breaths. A whisper of rain, just out of reach.
Jay remembers the weather from that day better than anything else all week. It hasn't been long, but he'll never forget, Jay thinks. He'll never forget the mockingly calm sky, the pattern his laces were tied in and the blue of his rubber soles, stark against the concrete and sand as he trudged his way home with his head hanging; nor will he forget the chipper video game soundtrack that he'll never be able to listen to again without wanting to burst. It's all seared into his mind's eye with the flash of a world turned on its axis.
Nya had texted him over a weekend, innocuous words on his screen after a busy month of throwing themselves into their classes. Tiny letters sent a red flag twisting into his gut.
The air had been stifling on the steps behind school, crisp and cool, pale sunlight providing no warmth as the rug was pulled out from under him. He heard the words Nya was saying, words like still-wanna-be-friends and I-get-it-if-you-need-space and too-scared-to-tell-you-in-school, through a haze. Jay watched Nya turn apologetically away from him, and it had felt like his heart was a ticking package about to explode.
He'd walked to the bus stop and paid the bus fare mechanically, without so much as a word. If he couldn't get rainfall to drown out the realization that it was all over, the growl of an engine would have to do.
The last two months had been rain, and it had left. Now he had nothing.
The sky was smooth, chalky grey and chilly, hanging over him as the days crawled by; the blanket of clouds grew heavy. Jay felt a kinship with them — he figured he knew a thing or two about carrying something around and waiting for it to fall.
Silly as it was, the only thing that could draw a spark of interest out of him was the week's weather forecast: probability of severe thunderstorm.
He missed those, the way they whistled and rumbled in his chest, the wrath of nature flashing across the skies, the power of the rain as it slammed its rhythm into the earth. Even the destruction they wrought to trees, buildings, and humans alike was uniquely awe-inspiring. The thought of getting to witness one almost brought him a sliver of excitement, an accomplishment when nothing in the world warranted it anymore.
The weather stayed depressingly storm-free through the first week after it had happened. But just because Jay and the sky both felt heavy, frozen still, didn't mean the world stopped turning; and so Jay found himself trudging through the motions of days. He forced himself to attempt homework he never got halfway through, ate just enough to shrug off his parents' fussing, pretended to pay attention when his friends gave their condolences…
There was no soothing thrum of droplets providing a backdrop to Cole's concerned voice over the phone when Jay broke the news to him. He flew off the handle screaming at Cole over something he didn't even remember after he hung up. He really should have felt guilty longer than a couple seconds, but there was something about having a storm cloud over your heart, heavy and waiting for release, that made it hard to hold onto much of anything else but emptiness.
The sun peeked through the windows to rub in his plight the day he had to steel his will just to greet Nya at school. It illuminated the gold flecks in her eyes as she politely smiled back, and he felt like a lab rat being dissected. Even sitting near his childhood bullies had made Jay hate their assigned seats less.
The air was stagnant and chilly the day they started their final project for physics, Zane precise but Jay apathetic because saying nothing was better than saying too much when he should just get over it already instead of being worthless and sensitive like always. Except he should've known better than to think Zane wouldn't notice; he lashed out with his blood roaring in his ears and tears pricking hot at his eyes the minute Zane pressed, then immediately regretted it. He spent the rest of the time venting his noxious spew of emotions about himself, and trying to be good enough and what did he do wrong and her—
The minute his voice cracked, Jay went silent and robotically went back to work calculating the velocity of a projectile launched from 49°.
It wasn't like he could've cried, anyway. He'd already tried.
The night Jay gave up on trying to sleep, the clouds were dark and low-hanging. He stared out the window, thoughts running rampant like a wounded dog. The gaping hole sinking into where his chest was was such a good distraction he almost missed it, but at the last second his heart skipped, then quickened.
There.
A distant flash, gone as quick as it had come, but unmistakably bright against the dark. With bated breath he scoured the sky outside, a flicker of awe scraping its way into his heart. Tranquility for a few minutes, then—again, another flash let loose from the thunderclouds, brighter this time, with a jagged white streak at its core, followed by a soft rumble. His chest fluttering, Jay quietly tiptoed his way to the front door, wincing as his foot banged into a chair and hoping his parents would stay asleep, and stepped out to the humble front porch. The day had been breezy, but now it began to kick up into spirited gusts; his heart dared to take comfort at the familiarity in each flare of lightning and boom of thunder. The heavens crackled with pent-up tension, unleashing it all in wrathful blazes of light and distressed roars of thunder.
A single droplet of water spattered against a grain of sand. A few seconds later, another, farther away. Then another, and yet another, picking up intensity until torrential rain hissed down onto the land and thudded against the roof over his head. Jay stuck his hand out and let the raindrops hammer into his hand, watching the vast expanse of sand outside his home darken as it got wet with a sense of loss more acute than anything else he had felt in days. The pitter-patter of rain, the faint hint of petrichor, the hazy chill in the air… for so long, they had painted a picture of sleek black hair and warm hazel eyes and hands in his own, laughter and banter and brains working together. And now he had to cut off all those images like they had never happened, distance himself from the one person who had made him feel complete, just because he wasn't good enough to hold her fancy.
Another flash of lightning streaked against the sky, all fiery jagged edges, illuminating the sky and banishing the darkness for a split second. Between the lightning and the time it took for the crash of thunder under his feet, ringing in his ear and rumbling in his soul, he realized he was crying.