In The Rain Scene
Posted: November 17th, 2009, 11:38 am
He sits at his desk, shaking in fury. Disgusted with himself. Disappointing everyone, even himself. Most of all the one true person he cares most about. She claims her words are acid, no they are not, they are the stench of truth. Even she is beginning to doubt. He tries again and again to calm and relax, to put on his facade. A fake smile, so that she would not worry. The words that burn like acid are when she says, ‘I believe in you’. Why, why, why. Why does she believe in me. What rights have I ever given her to believe in me. It rings in his mind. He stare at her text. ‘I believe in you’. He curses himself. He's disgusted, but not at her. It burns him with anger and passion. Fury builds in him. He takes off at a sprint. The wind brushes his hair. He never even realized when he leapt out his window. Freedom, the cool air on the back of his neck, the icy sweat relieving his stress. He reaches out for a near by pole and swings like a gymnast. He swings his body again and leaps from it. He spirals in the air, swinging from pole to pole.
He lands on the roof of a building. He had swung himself higher. He perches himself on top a flat gargoyle. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. He finally begins to even it out. He opens his eyes. As dark clouds begin to form above him, what starts out as a drizzle spurts into a downpour. He raises his hands up. Letting the rain consume his body. Icy particles cools off, his heated body. His mind and body washes over. His right leg begins to wobble. His constant reminder of just how weak he truly is. Though is body is toned, coming from the most perfect genes anyone could ever ask for, He is not like them. The ones who mad him into existence. He was just as weak and fragile as any other normal average man. Though he trained and exercise, pushing his body to the limit. He will never be like them. The lords among flies. Gods. Titans. Mighty Men.
He thinks of his brother. Three years younger than him, and he’s taller, stronger, faster, more muscular than him. Perfect in every sense of the word. Truly the rightful heir to their father, the family name. King Lazarus of the thirteen houses. He comes from a long line, before them, each one respected. Like his father and Grandfather, His brother’s life came naturally easy for him. He sighs. He stands in the rain, cool, calm. Alone. He closes his eyes. All he can see is her. Her face, so natural, so plain, so beautiful in every sense of the word. Her long brunette hair flowing in the wind, dancing. Her warm, big deep ocean blue eyes, piercing him, breaking him. Her soft rose petal lips. He blinks. A raindrop falls, living for a few short seconds before dying on her rose petal lips. He blinks again. Realizing, she is no longer a burning mental picture, a scar that was permanently left in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there, staring at him, with those endless sea blue eyes. His eyes now open. Somehow, maybe finally developed his powers. He could will things to life, or create a three-dimensional picture from his minds.
Suddenly she blinks, sighing. Shivering in the cold. A big heavy sweater embracing her. He realizes it’s a sweater he had lent her. For it was two sizes to big on her, then she finally spoke, “Well?” She looked and sounded irritated and tired. he stands awestruck. Not sure if she’s real or imagine yet. She walks over to the gargoyle, she smiles at him, “’Ello Bruce, How are you?” She smiles staring at him as she waits for him to answer, “ I know, he does seem in bad shape, I thank you, you always do take care of him for me.” Her smile so warm. Even in the rain, she was radiant. Nothing ever seem to bother her, will except for me, he thought. There was this forever hedge around her, protecting her from rain.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, coldly. Maybe to coldly, she looked slightly hurt and taken backed. He sighed, “I’m sorry.”
She ignored it completely, “I’m here because I care.” She snorted. He turned his back towards her. He begins to shake again, she reaches for him and hugs him from behind. He didn’t want this, as much as he did want it, need it. He cursed himself. She would be so much happier without me, without knowing me. As much as it pained him, he wished she would hate him, despise him, at times, there were moments when she was annoyed, irritated with him. She would push him, as he wanted. Soon fear gripped, knowing that was she obeying. She was going to turn her back, walk away, as it should be, as should have been. Yet he reached out and grabbed her. Was he playing a game and not realize, seeing how much she could take. Sometimes he would milk it. Pushing it to an extent to see just how much would and could take. Yet though it all, here she was, in the cold rain. Holding him. He sighed and breathed in her sweet strawberry scent. It burned his nostril, with a loving passion. He melted at her every touch. Even now, as the heat from both their bodies radiated them. The rain began to light up.
“What time is it?” He breathed out.
“two in the morning,” She sighed, “You know I have work in the morning. Eight hours.” She groaned, she needed her rest, he curses himself again. That’s all he was ever good at, keeping her up. “I know what you thinking.”
“Can you blame me?” He slumped over.
“Well then I guess you’ll just have to relax, so I can sleep.” The hatred of himself builds up again. She sighs, feeling his heat flaring, “You know what I mean. Are you okay, now? And don’t just say you are.”
“Leave me. “ He looks up at the sky, he reaches out.
“What?”
“Thunder, I use it.”
“Oh.” She says in understanding. She gathers herself. She takes a peek at him. She sighs. She looks straight out, as her body, begins to float. She then glides off the roof. Into the sky like a beautiful angel.
He stands stills, the rain starts up again. He clenches his hands into two tight balls, a mixture of blood and water droop to the roofs floor. He stares up, his eyes tightly close, at the same time as a loud crack shakes the earth, he screams, “I want to be stronger!” he huffs and puffs. His hands are tightly cramped. It takes almost all his strength to open them, letting the blood flow circulate. His leg gives and crashes to his knees, cursing himself again. He toys the idea of not having a leg. At least one pain would cease to exist, he thinks to himself, why must I be so powerless.
He slowly gets up, catching his right leg. Supporting it. His constant reminder of being born normal. Why he couldn’t do the things he wished he could. He loves baseball, as long as he didn’t strain to much, he could play with rest of the normal people, but not a game with his fellow kinship. He also loved to run, he was a runner. Even with his leg in the shape it was in, he was still one of the fastest, for a normal person. Though it does bother him so much, he is thankful, proud of himself. He came up against a demon that had threaten his life, and he faced that demon head on. If you could call it a victory, the leg was a trophy to show that we wasn’t afraid. That he was willing to fight. And fight back hard. It was one of his most darkest moment. And she was there. Why was she there, why did she care so much. Even as much as I played tug of war, push and hold her at the same time. She should just ignore me, no matter how much I fought back and pushed to keep her, she could have easily ignored me. Though he always sensed a fear, a fear he couldn’t understand.
Many times she would tell him, ‘I hope you would find someone better’ yet he sensed a fear in her voice, but why? Was she afraid to lose him, did she need him more than she claimed she didn’t. Was there a part of her that couldn’t let him go. As much as she got annoyed and irritated, could she not let him go? In a sense was he hers? Was she so used and comfortable with the idea, of him always being there. No matter what? Comforting to know that no matter how ‘bad’ she got with him, no matter how much she hurt him, he was still there, to protect her, to defend her, take care of, comfort her, help boost her self-esteem, to the very bitter end. Did she need him more than he thought, more than she lead on?
He opened his eyes to brush off the silliness of the questions. Of course not, how foolish. He wished there was something he could do for her, that no one else could. The only thing he ever felt good at, was offering his all to her, his friendship, his very heart, his time, patience. He promised himself he would be nothing but patient with her. His very care and understanding. His very life if need be. He would smile at his final last act of bravery, chivalry, going in a blaze of glory, like some cowboy or a champion samurai.
He lands on the roof of a building. He had swung himself higher. He perches himself on top a flat gargoyle. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. He finally begins to even it out. He opens his eyes. As dark clouds begin to form above him, what starts out as a drizzle spurts into a downpour. He raises his hands up. Letting the rain consume his body. Icy particles cools off, his heated body. His mind and body washes over. His right leg begins to wobble. His constant reminder of just how weak he truly is. Though is body is toned, coming from the most perfect genes anyone could ever ask for, He is not like them. The ones who mad him into existence. He was just as weak and fragile as any other normal average man. Though he trained and exercise, pushing his body to the limit. He will never be like them. The lords among flies. Gods. Titans. Mighty Men.
He thinks of his brother. Three years younger than him, and he’s taller, stronger, faster, more muscular than him. Perfect in every sense of the word. Truly the rightful heir to their father, the family name. King Lazarus of the thirteen houses. He comes from a long line, before them, each one respected. Like his father and Grandfather, His brother’s life came naturally easy for him. He sighs. He stands in the rain, cool, calm. Alone. He closes his eyes. All he can see is her. Her face, so natural, so plain, so beautiful in every sense of the word. Her long brunette hair flowing in the wind, dancing. Her warm, big deep ocean blue eyes, piercing him, breaking him. Her soft rose petal lips. He blinks. A raindrop falls, living for a few short seconds before dying on her rose petal lips. He blinks again. Realizing, she is no longer a burning mental picture, a scar that was permanently left in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there, staring at him, with those endless sea blue eyes. His eyes now open. Somehow, maybe finally developed his powers. He could will things to life, or create a three-dimensional picture from his minds.
Suddenly she blinks, sighing. Shivering in the cold. A big heavy sweater embracing her. He realizes it’s a sweater he had lent her. For it was two sizes to big on her, then she finally spoke, “Well?” She looked and sounded irritated and tired. he stands awestruck. Not sure if she’s real or imagine yet. She walks over to the gargoyle, she smiles at him, “’Ello Bruce, How are you?” She smiles staring at him as she waits for him to answer, “ I know, he does seem in bad shape, I thank you, you always do take care of him for me.” Her smile so warm. Even in the rain, she was radiant. Nothing ever seem to bother her, will except for me, he thought. There was this forever hedge around her, protecting her from rain.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, coldly. Maybe to coldly, she looked slightly hurt and taken backed. He sighed, “I’m sorry.”
She ignored it completely, “I’m here because I care.” She snorted. He turned his back towards her. He begins to shake again, she reaches for him and hugs him from behind. He didn’t want this, as much as he did want it, need it. He cursed himself. She would be so much happier without me, without knowing me. As much as it pained him, he wished she would hate him, despise him, at times, there were moments when she was annoyed, irritated with him. She would push him, as he wanted. Soon fear gripped, knowing that was she obeying. She was going to turn her back, walk away, as it should be, as should have been. Yet he reached out and grabbed her. Was he playing a game and not realize, seeing how much she could take. Sometimes he would milk it. Pushing it to an extent to see just how much would and could take. Yet though it all, here she was, in the cold rain. Holding him. He sighed and breathed in her sweet strawberry scent. It burned his nostril, with a loving passion. He melted at her every touch. Even now, as the heat from both their bodies radiated them. The rain began to light up.
“What time is it?” He breathed out.
“two in the morning,” She sighed, “You know I have work in the morning. Eight hours.” She groaned, she needed her rest, he curses himself again. That’s all he was ever good at, keeping her up. “I know what you thinking.”
“Can you blame me?” He slumped over.
“Well then I guess you’ll just have to relax, so I can sleep.” The hatred of himself builds up again. She sighs, feeling his heat flaring, “You know what I mean. Are you okay, now? And don’t just say you are.”
“Leave me. “ He looks up at the sky, he reaches out.
“What?”
“Thunder, I use it.”
“Oh.” She says in understanding. She gathers herself. She takes a peek at him. She sighs. She looks straight out, as her body, begins to float. She then glides off the roof. Into the sky like a beautiful angel.
He stands stills, the rain starts up again. He clenches his hands into two tight balls, a mixture of blood and water droop to the roofs floor. He stares up, his eyes tightly close, at the same time as a loud crack shakes the earth, he screams, “I want to be stronger!” he huffs and puffs. His hands are tightly cramped. It takes almost all his strength to open them, letting the blood flow circulate. His leg gives and crashes to his knees, cursing himself again. He toys the idea of not having a leg. At least one pain would cease to exist, he thinks to himself, why must I be so powerless.
He slowly gets up, catching his right leg. Supporting it. His constant reminder of being born normal. Why he couldn’t do the things he wished he could. He loves baseball, as long as he didn’t strain to much, he could play with rest of the normal people, but not a game with his fellow kinship. He also loved to run, he was a runner. Even with his leg in the shape it was in, he was still one of the fastest, for a normal person. Though it does bother him so much, he is thankful, proud of himself. He came up against a demon that had threaten his life, and he faced that demon head on. If you could call it a victory, the leg was a trophy to show that we wasn’t afraid. That he was willing to fight. And fight back hard. It was one of his most darkest moment. And she was there. Why was she there, why did she care so much. Even as much as I played tug of war, push and hold her at the same time. She should just ignore me, no matter how much I fought back and pushed to keep her, she could have easily ignored me. Though he always sensed a fear, a fear he couldn’t understand.
Many times she would tell him, ‘I hope you would find someone better’ yet he sensed a fear in her voice, but why? Was she afraid to lose him, did she need him more than she claimed she didn’t. Was there a part of her that couldn’t let him go. As much as she got annoyed and irritated, could she not let him go? In a sense was he hers? Was she so used and comfortable with the idea, of him always being there. No matter what? Comforting to know that no matter how ‘bad’ she got with him, no matter how much she hurt him, he was still there, to protect her, to defend her, take care of, comfort her, help boost her self-esteem, to the very bitter end. Did she need him more than he thought, more than she lead on?
He opened his eyes to brush off the silliness of the questions. Of course not, how foolish. He wished there was something he could do for her, that no one else could. The only thing he ever felt good at, was offering his all to her, his friendship, his very heart, his time, patience. He promised himself he would be nothing but patient with her. His very care and understanding. His very life if need be. He would smile at his final last act of bravery, chivalry, going in a blaze of glory, like some cowboy or a champion samurai.