Disclaimer: I am but a lowly mortal. Nothing is mine.
I feel emptiness. Utter and blinding emptiness.
He should be next to me right now. Smiling that small, warm smile of his, teasing me about the littlest things and saying the whispered and secret 'I love you's in my ear. But he's not doing any of that. He is now lying there, unconscious and cold.
The steady humming and beeping of the machines that are connected to his pale and oh-so frail looking body, is reassuring me that there is still hope. It's the only hope I have. Like a little dry land in the middle of my fears, the only safe string of truth which keeps me from breaking down right here and now.
Rain falls steadily.
The large raindrops fall in heavy rhythm against the cold, closed window glasses. It mollifies the pain in my chest just a little. But still, the rain falls. Still, those beautiful golden eyes stay closed. Still, my own are soaked with tears that finally have stopped and are starting to disappear, only leaving dry, ghostly traces on my cheeks behind.
The door at the other side of the room quietly opens and all our closest friends come in. The tallest one places his hand on my shoulder, as if trying to help me, and quietly says: "It's not your fault Fuji. You couldn't help it, you weren't there. None of us were. He's strong, he'll make it."
Those words make me remember that scene once again. The same scene that I arrived at, unable to help those in need and feeling utterly lost and afraid.
The crying people, kneeling down to the dead bodies of their family members or friends, the spilled blood that gave off an intoxicating smell that dulled my senses. The holes in the walls of the shop, made from the stray bullets, make me even more worried about him.
He's safe, he's safe. He's definitely safe. Those words run through my head, as I walk around the place and look for him.
I hear the worried voices of doctors somewhere from the fog and I blindly head in the direction of those voices. The scene I see makes me stand still, frozen from shock and fear. I come back from my numb state when a nurse comes to me and asks if I know any of the dead or injured ones.
I nod her as an answer and run to the white ambulance car and the doctors that are trying to keep my boyfriend alive. My meaning of life is dying right in front of my eyes. It makes my mind go numb; the now so distant voices around me buzz and ring in my ears, as I struggle not to collapse.
"Will he live?" I ask one of the doctors next to him. "Will he live?"
They answer with a short "He's in a critical condition. We're taking him to the hospital, you can come with us." and push the stretchers, with his body on top them, in the ambulance car.
And now, I'm sitting here, in the dreadful silence, with every one watching over the body that is covered in bandages, cuts and bruises. His chest falls and rises, signaling that he is still breathing. I hold one of his cold hands in mine, hoping for him to wake up soon.
The night comes to an end; the rain still falls hard against the cold, closed window glasses. And we still continue to pray and hope.
I open my eyes with a snap and stare at the white and slightly dirty ceiling above me.
It's raining, again.
I sit up in the bed and wipe the cold sweat from my face. After that, my eyes catch the ghostly shadows on the floor and follow them till the windows. The drops of water hit softly against them, making that little pitter- patter sound.
"I hate the rain." I mumble to myself and turn away from the windows.
When a hot hand touches mine, I jump in slight surprise. After turning to look on my left, where my lover was sleeping, blissfully undisturbed, right next to me, a smile crept on my lips. Maybe, just maybe, rainy days weren't that bad after all.
The warm body besides me stirs in his sleep and mumbles something right next to my arm. I quietly laugh to myself: "Ryoma, thank you for stopping the rain that day."
I lie down again and hug the small, and still so very frail looking body, closer to myself. I go back to sleep after thanking God, that he didn't take my lover away from me that day.
A/N: Added stuff, took stuff out. I like it a bit better now; it's not so… plain anymore.
Honestly, I'm feeling a bit ashamed that I put that thing up before.