Ooh, this is quite a long one. I just noticed. Yes, the stimulus is a piece of music--and an absolutely beautiful one, at that. Check it out. I dare you. :)

Um, wow, by the way. I just checked the review count (believe it or not, I haven't, since I reached 1000.) Somehow, 410 more have sprung up since then. Wtf?! That's INSANE!! Thank you all so, so much. You know that I'd have given this up long ago, were it not for you guys, and I love you all!!

This was, by the way, originally a one-shot, hence the length. I cut about a thousand words out, but I couldn't seem to get it any shorter. Sorry.

Date: 19th February

Character: Bella

Stimulus: Kiss the Rain, Yiruma

As the rain tumbles down, as it so often does in Forks, WA, it strikes a window, and some of the droplets escape inside. It is a window that is never closed, through wind or rain. It always seems to be waiting for something, though no one is sure what.

She remembers that one night. That one, summer night. Of course, it hadn't felt like summer—it never did, in Forks. And anyway, it had started to rain.
They had been up in their meadow.
Earlier, it had been sunny, and she had spent the day simply wondering at him, as she had done on their first trip to the meadow—as she had done ever since.
They came home, now, in the rain. She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat of his Volvo (It was amazing how tiring ogling could be), and had only woken when she had felt his cold arms around her, lifting her gently from her seat. He had her in his arms before she could blink tiredly.
His lovely face smiled down at her. "And so, Sleeping Beauty awakes, at last…"She had sighed, and scowled up at him, and knowing what she had wanted, he had set her on her feet. He hadn't let her go, though. The rain had come, then, soaking them through, and he had chuckled softly at her disgusted face as she became soaked. And then he had kissed her.
It had just been another kiss but, like everything about him, it had been perfect. She had held herself tightly to him and for once, he had allowed the contact. It might have been cliché to kiss in the rain, but there was a reason for that. She knew it, now.

As the rain tumbles down, as it so often does in Forks, WA, it strikes a window, and some of the droplets escape inside. It is a window that is never closed, through wind or rain. It always seems to be waiting for something, though no one is sure what. And there she sits, at the window, as she so often does, allowing herself to be soaked as she remembers that kiss, in the rain. It's gone now. It's just another memory. She wishes it were not so, but it is so. She hates him for doing this to her. She hates him so much.

But if she hates him, then why does it still hurt so much, when she remembers that he's gone?