Meaning: Grace, silence


The sound of a thousand tiny drops hitting the floor around her fills her ears with an oddly beautiful orchestra, and the sensation of rain pattering against her head and sliding down her skin helps her clear her mind.

Today was a bad day. It feels like she's been having a lot of those recently.

She likes to come here when she feels alone. Nobody will ever find her, and nothing in the world will ever get in her way. Down there, with the others, she has to hide her emotions and act tough, like she belongs on a team of mighty heroes. But when she comes here, she's allowed to be as empty as she feels on the inside, because she has nobody and nothing to pretend for.

The rain helps mask her tears. So many drops are rushing down her face that she can't even tell what's from her eyes and what's from the sky above. And it's better that way, because the others won't be able to tell, either. When she goes back inside, nobody will ever suspect she did anything up here other than sit and watch the dark clouds above.

She feels a soft hand on top of her own, and she almost jumps in shock. She didn't even hear him approach her. He's soaked to the bone, just like her. She wonders how long he had been sitting there for. But she doesn't ask.

He stares at her, rain sliding down his black shades. He doesn't speak. For that she's grateful. He just extends his arms out, and she falls right into them as if he were a magnet. She makes no effort to pretend like she doesn't need anyone, not with him.

She rests her head on his chest, and she feels him rest his on her hair. Neither dares say anything. The silence says more than words ever could.

He kisses the top of her head, and she lets her tears fall from her eyes down her cheeks and finally onto his shirt. He won't care, she thinks. He probably won't even notice. His clothes are just as drenched as hers are.

He tilts her chin up so she's able to look him dead in the eye, and he softly wipes her left pupil with his thumb. She wonders how he knew, but the answer's clear as day to her. She's an open book to him. He gently parts a few strands of wet hair out of the way of her face, and she responds by pushing herself up to kiss him on the lips.

He doesn't fight back. He knows she's just desperate to assure herself he's real. He kisses her back, and their lips slowly drift apart before she leans back into his chest and meekly utters a weak sob. He draws circles on her back and kisses her hair again, and a strained whimper into his chest is all it takes for him to hug her even tighter.

They don't leave until the rain stops pouring.