The soft drumming of rain against the window wakes me, and I open my eyes
to stare at the bunk above me. If I listen carefully I can hear his breathing,
slow, steady, and comforting beyond measure. Slowly, quietly I lift one hand and
place it lightly on the bottom of the bed, a smile on my face.
It gives me a sense of peace to be so close to him, to know that all I
need to do is whisper his name and he will be there.
Careful not to disturb his sleep I sit up and swing my legs over the side
of the bed, shivering as my bare feet make contact with the cold floor. Reaching
behind me, I pull my blanket around my shoulders as I creep silently to the
window and watch the rain track down the smooth glass. It has been forever since
I have done this, just stood there and watched the water flow downwards,
individual droplets merging to form an intricate pattern that my sleep-fogged
mind can make no sense of.
My thoughts wander aimlessly through a lifetime of memories and I feel
myself smile as I find the focus I have been looking for without realizing it.
There. In the midst of a maelstrom of sadness and helpless frustration,
surrounded on all sides by pain and longing. There. Past times of silent
suffering, and through unshed tears.
There.
Closing my eyes I look, and I see for the first time. I see what he means
to me. What he has been to me.
I had always thought him to be like the eye of the storm, the peace
before the destruction that must come after… And it is as though a veil has
been lifted. I can see clearly now, see past the deceptions that have been
placed in my way.
I see him for who he is, not who others think he should be. I see him as
my friend, and guardian of my heart. As I am his.
Opening my eyes I look at my reflection, and smile as I see another
behind me.
Turning, I tilt my head to the side, tracing his features with my eyes as
I had with the rain. He frowns, his nose wrinkling slightly, and then he
shivers. Smiling, I hold my arm out, and gratefully he steps into the embrace.
Settling the blanket over his shoulders I lean into him lightly, knowing
he will be there. I can feel the unvoiced questions in the air, but he says
nothing. He pulls me closer, resting his chin on the top of my head as we watch
the rain play on the window.
"Mitsuru," I say, my voice strangely hesitant.
"Hmmm?"
"Do you like the rain?"
Silence.
And then…
"No…but I like what becomes of it."
I frown, turning his words over in my mind. 'What becomes of it.' I
think, and my gaze lands on a particular rain trail, snaking to the bottom of
the window. A stray shaft of moonlight peeks out from behind the dark clouds,
illuminating the night for a brief moment.
'What becomes of it.'
There is a sudden gust of wind, and the branches of a tree rattle, bare
save for the tiny buds of new life waiting to emerge. My eyes widen in sudden
understanding.
"It washes away the old…bringing the promise of a fresh start." I
murmur in wonderment.
How could I not have seen it that way before? Why did I see it as
something dark and oppressing?
"Actually," he says, his voice tinged with amusement, "I was
talking about mud puddles."
I blink in surprise.
"Shinobu?"
Mud puddles?
"Did I say something wrong?"
Mud puddles?!
Turning to face him, I see the grin I was half-expecting. His eyes are
alight with repressed laughter, and I do my best to draw it out as my fingers
tickle his sides mercilessly.
Mud puddles indeed.
