This was kind of a spur of the moment writing. I know it's kind of short, but the vignette style is reeaaally addicting. I hope you guys like it and please review?
Warnings: implied sex, angst
When the Sky Cries
It was raining. It wasn't the angry tears that hurt to be underneath, but the soft drizzle of miserable tears from the gray, gray sky. Either way, the sky over England was always crying.
He hated it. He hated staring at those tears the way he did, watching them hit the ground for hours on end. Every sound it mad was different with the type of rain. Today it was a tap-tap-tap - the same sound as tears hitting paper.
In the library it was silent, except, of course, for the tapping. There were no sounds of hushed chatter; fingernails hitting the table, one after another; or even the sound of pages turning. It became empty and hollow since the redhead left. The room seemed to seep sadness from it's very walls because of the sudden abandonment.
He couldn't understand why he went there when it rained. It was a force of habit, he guessed. On days that the sky cried, the redhead would be there, and they'd share a fake love. The tears didn't seem so loud then. The walls weren't so old and sunken in.
It was fake, though. The both of them were well aware of that. Every touch, every whispered word of affection, every moment they felt like their hearts would burst - all of that was fake from the very beginning. It couldn't even be considered an illusion. They'd both come together - completed each other - but they both knew the outcome. The redhead was meant to leave from the very beginning.
He closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't alone. He pretended he was being stared at by that big green eye still. It had been irritating at the time, but he found himself missing it. That irritating stare that was only really used to get him to talk was gone.
In a past moment, he'd been lost in the situation. On the very ground below his feet, he'd been laying. It was the redhead's fault, and he had eagerly taken the blame. He could still remember the fireworks going off behind his eyelids that day.
In another moment, it was fighting and anger, mimicking the angry sky. Hateful words were passed. I hate you, said one. You hate everything, said the other. Lighting and thunder attacked the earth, turning the allies into enemies, but the sky's lightning and thunder couldn't compare to that of the room.
In a moment after that, they were together and intertwined but not intimate. One was angry, the other was furious, but both felt the sadness soak them to the bone. Outside the window, the sky wept and wept.
Now it was dark and the sadness coated ever wall, book, and piece of furniture in the room. A long-haired exorcist sat on the same chair on days that the sky cried. And, the sky wasn't the least bit angry anymore.