The Darkest Of Colours

VIII

viii.

Rain
I don't think I need to stay much, who doesn't love rain. My grandma doesn't but she'll be dead soon.

Louis laughs at that, H seemed to have a dark humour for someone as sweet as them. But they were right, who didn't love rain. Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book. The only problem being Louis didn't have a home but that's alright.
The rain was one time he felt comfortable. Physically, that is. There is greater comfort in the substance of platter on the roof than anything else. He also finds it fascinating that the rain being as lovely as it is, betrays. It shows him no one is paper perfect and makes him feel better about himself. Like the comfort is no test of it's loyalty and truth. Truth is far from being comfortable.

The rain is a promise, not always kept but still a promise.