Summary: Lovers in the same room, worlds apart.

Rain and the Window

I hate what the rain does to him.

I don't know where he goes, but he's there for hours, somewhere in his thoughts, memories.

It's always the same window, same position, legs crossed and back straight, and pressing into the bench we built together.

I wish I knew what he was seeing, or who's face appeared with the water and the ugly sky.

Untouchable.

And I'm no better, sitting here, staring at the mess of his hair, and willing him back to me.

It gets longer every time. One day he might not...

I whisper, praying he'll turn around.

"Sanzo."