14 September 2006
Umbrella by Bela Luna
Disclaimer: I do not own No Rest for the Wicked ( w w w . f o r t h e w i c k e d . n e t). That lovely comic is by Andrea L. Peterson, an Icarus Falls Production.
The rain falls steadily, cold and crisp. It slaps against the pavement and embraces the trees. Gentle winds weave through the strong, breakable threads of water. All of it, even the leaves that had been snapped off, ride down the hill into the sewage grates.
One young woman, standing on the wet pavement and beneath the cold rain, watches in sadness and defeat. She shifts from heeled foot to heeled foot, shivering beneath her thin, delicate shirt. The fabric clung to her like many fingers. She shut her stinging green eyes, hoping that the dark shadows beneath them were not showing through her make-up, though it was very possible that the rain had already washed it all away, exposing her.
Splashing footsteps came from behind her, awakening her from her reverie. She pushes back soaked brown hair, trying to stop the shivers that were crawling up her skin. A young man stands next to her, his blonde hair beginning to darken from the latest deluge of rain. He turned his blue eyes towards her and smiled.
She attempted to smile back, but it came out as more of a wince than anything else. She looked down at her shoes, giving little stamps in attempts to stay warm. She looked up again, witnessing the boy taking out and umbrella from his rucksack and shaking it. Her mood soured. Most likely, he would walk off home and change out of his wet clothes as she waited for her bus.
Then, she could not feel the rain. She could hear it pounding all around her, above her, but she could not feel it. She looked up and saw a blue umbrella hovering over her. Realisation sunk in and she looked at the boy, and saw him smiling, offering her the umbrella.
She took it carefully from him. She stood where she was, clutching her plastic handle. She snuck a glance at the boy, then side-stepped closer to him and raised the umbrella so that it covered both of their heads.
He took the handle from her hands, grinning, and allows for the both of them to stand beneath the deafening rain, waiting for a bus that would never come.
Something short and a little gooey. This was meant to be an original story, but since so much writing is being stolen, I figured that it is safer as fanficton.
This is a November/Boy fic. The first one that I have ever written.