Disclaimer: I do not own Kaze To Ki No Uta or any of its trademarks, characters, situations, or any related themes. Enjoy !

So long ago had it rained? Last time it did, it seemed endless, like the sky was crying. Rain. It can either bring people together or make one's sentimental day a gloomy basilisk ready to poison you, strip you of a smile and a way to look forward to tomorrow.

Rain. Never before had one wished for such weather with so much eager awaiting that they wanted to cry themselves and make it seem like it was raining outside. Tonight, however, one such person wanted the rain to become eternal, endless, and everlasting. That phantasmagoric comparison between the two was the masterwork of the boy who laid in pure darkness, nothing born onto his slender frame except a loose night gown, as his temple ran with left over tears, smooth trails from his lover. The night was almost over, dawn was near, and the rain was wished upon to come. Nothing happened. The rain was like teardrops of the sad and happy. Both uniting into one, melting the image of the path of right or wrong. No turning back now. It was there and nothing more.

In that small, cryptic dorm room, the said number 17 of Dorm Building B was the musical box of said tears. The rain had come, even if only two lovers could see it. It was a sad rain, unfortunately. A series of mystifying events had weaved themselves to meet the sad rain it produced with fine tuning and all the necessary cogs to create a morbid and cheerless depiction of two lovers alone in a dark room after such a day that they dare not repeat in each other's presence. It was the test, the ultimate test of how much they were there for each other in the direst of times.

Serge stroked Gilbert's hair softly, breathing small and fast breaths as he fought the oncoming tears that came from watching his beloved cry all night.

"This life...this horror...it is not worth it anymore, Serge," Gilbert whimpered through his tears, his voice weak and innocent. Nobody thought Gilbert could be innocent to begin with. If he was, he would already be shattered. To be called a harlot, a low-life good-for-nothing-whore in front of the entire school by the church choir on the holiest of days was next to unspeakable. Ever since this morning, Gilbert had secluded himself in that very room, under the covers, naked except for the covers that reigned over his body. Red lines, slits, self inflicting, created a mosaic of dying blood on his arms; his skinny arms that had cuts, wicked enough to be devilish, were said to be deserving onto him. Gilbert wanted this pain. At least, he thought he earned the pride to punish himself physically. Nothing else besides the knife stained with Gilbert's blood laid in the dusty corner of the room, inert, stripped of its predetermined purpose.

Serge, young, pure, and full of unbearable guilt, could not even choke on a syllable of a word that would sooth the misery of Gilbert. Half of the blanket shared by the two adolescences was drenched in tears. Together, they had each other to share this sweet candy from Lucifer.

"Gilbert, don't listen to them. They do not know what they are saying. All of them deserve to feel the real pain for treating you like dirt. You do not deserve this, not even a little."

"It does, Serge! It does! It is the truth! Nothing they say is a lie! It is all true!"

"Gilbert!" Serge tried to calm the blonde down but his efforts were in vain.

"This is what I am, nothing but a torn apart harlot. It's finally making sense to me, Serge. Never again will I call you "Sir" or "Monsieur" when I lie next to you, or kiss you ever again. I only sound like a straight up hooker like how they see me as. Nothing will change." Gilbert whispered a few curses under his breath, tightening his grip of Serge's shoulders, making the half-gypsy boy flinch in utter, volatile despair.

"No you are not, Gilbert." Serge embraced him tighter, with more passion and willingness. "You mustn't degrade yourself like that, calling yourself a-a..."

"See? Even you cannot say what I am. There is nothing left to believe in anymore."

"That is because I am not like the others, Gilbert. I know you for you. Why must you keep lying to yourself, care for yourself as such as creature that is entitled to being deprived and hated? You deserve so much better! I know you do. I believe that with all my heart."

Gilbert froze, tears still shedding like mad.

"No person has ever treated me like a human being. Nothing more than this thing they can throw out on a free whim, a prostitute with no meaningful existence in a cold world full of empty warmth and closed doors. To the world, I am nothing more than a harlot, a wasteful harlot. To even bear a name is an implausible question to me." He buried his face on the bare flesh of Serge's smooth chest and weep louder, clutching his hands into Serge's shiny, black-silk hair. Intertwining his long fingers in the hair, Serge pulled the boy closer.



"Never! You are not a waste. I should be cross enough to strike you for saying something so cruel. Gilbert...why? Why?" Weak enough, for the very last syllables, could an echo be formed from Serge's lips. Gilbert wanted so much to take those lips in one bona-fide kiss to prove how much he loved him. "You are only you, to yourself and nobody else! You deserve to be happy first for yourself above everyone else. Even me."

"Nobody looks at me welcomingly, only looking down upon, laughing as if I escaped from an estranged freak circus!"


"It's true..."

"What is?" he asked looking up at last into Serge's deep brown eyes. Stroking a thumb across his porcelain cheek to clear away a tear, Serge smiled a real smile that glowed in the night, he being so very close to Gilbert, lips almost touching.

"You do make people laugh. Their laughing is wrong. Me, I love being with you because you make me laugh, and smile, and relax, and enjoy what I have. So, I need to keep being with you, whether or not anyone is there to hold out their hands and say "It's okay", so I never miss a laugh. I'll regret missing even a single moment of laughing or crying with you, Gilbert because I love you. I've never loved anyone more."

"Serge..." Gilbert regained his posture, placing his hand on Serge's face, caressing his cheek. "Me?"

"Only you."



"More than your parents, dear Serge? I thought they were always first in your heart."

"That's true. However, you are the first when it comes to my first love of my life. I never want to experience anything if it is not with you."

Gilbert smiled and kissed Serge gently then with more hunger and need. "I love you too, Serge. I really do." The blonde's face was stained with tears and sadness. He tried to move his slit wrist up the lace his fingers with the other boy's. He couldn't. He lost too much blood. Instead, Serge leaned forward and kissed his scars and all the way up the arm until he found Gilbert's mouth once again.

With a hint of a sting, Gilbert let a soft cry escape from him. He was loved by Serge...his Serge. 'He's so beautiful,' he thought.

"You are a strong person, Gilbert. Be strong, for yourself. The world can be cruel but we all can pull through with hope for living for tomorrow," Serge smiled.

Without a second moment of ponder, Gilbert nodded and cupped Serge's face into his free hand. "I will be strong. I have to be...for the both of us. For the both of us, because the nights can either bring us together or split us apart. I want us to be together."


Gilbert gave a cat-like smirk. "Why not?" he answered with a glow, and his face and a smile reaching from ear to ear.

Gilbert's tears turned to tears of joy; his head was filled with thoughts of love. Dreams were still shattered, but they were there to pick up the pieces, whether or not they would get cut in the process. Life bears cuts throughout time, only can one accept it and know they can endure the pain with the happy ending they can make of it will they pull through. Tomorrow is the reward for surviving the night trying to trust yourself, love yourself, and believe in what you know.

As the boys drifted to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms after planting kisses everywhere they could for comfort, the rain from Gilbert's eyes ceased, Serge too. Casting a shadow upon the black wall, the moonlight slowly began to abate behind the trees as a gentle wind played upon its branches.

The choices we make today affect us tomorrow. The choices we make can replace our abilities to perform our role in life.


Those three words, eight letters, three syllables can join the bonds of distinct difference together even if it is for only a little while.

Before falling into an at last peaceful slumber, Gilbert looked at his sleeping angel beside him and promised himself he would face his hindrances of tomorrow knowing he is not alone. He was happy. He was grateful.

If either boy wished for the rain to come again, one would be there for the other, playing the role of the sun to dry the wet mark of an overcoming insignia.

Gilbert kissed Serge's forehead and smiled once more.