The World's Tears
The cement was cold against his forehead. The wall was swaying with moving shadows, but the red-head leaning against it was blind to them. His fingertips touched the wall beside his shoulders, his muscles tensed in either arm. Eyes closed he stood in the cool night breeze, allowing the darkness to overwhelm him.
What was this? He should've been back in his bed with his iPod blasting. What had he fucked up so royally, that this time he couldn't go back? His eyes clenched and his chest shivered, but he demanded himself not to cry. This was it, there would be no redemption, no shoulder to cry on; he'd make it, one day at a time.
Suddenly, rain began to fall, chilling but steady like rivers that fell from the stars. His face felt cold as the rain touched his heated cheeks, and the rain began to mingle with his tears moments later. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall, berating his clumsy attempt at staying dry.
It felt like the world was crying with him, and as he felt comfort seep into his damp clothes, he opened his eyes and glanced upwards, allowing the sky tears to purify his own. He knew there was purpose in his future; he had the world backing him up. Getting kicked out wasn't so bad; he'd be able to prove himself.
But not just to everyone else.