Nocturnal Me (Nameless Ghoul Rain/Water x Reader)

Chapter 20- An Aching Soul's Purgatory

     Rain bounced his leg anxiously. He was currently observing you from where he sat on a couch in the lounge, watching you interact with other ghouls as he pretended to be busy eating a plate of chips he couldn't stomach and relaxing from the buzz of the night. You had devoured that saffron bun which, in fact, was still safely tucked behind 'Raggedy Anne' and 'The House on Mango Street', two books you had recommended a long time ago. It was the first real conversation you two had ever had, actually. Back when you were both still getting to know each other.

     ..."The thing about The Crucible, though, is that it was just a whole power-play fantasy about his marriage. He was John Proctor, Marilynn Monroe was Abigail, and his wife was Goody Proctor. He twisted and re-wrote the narrative to make himself look good, to make Abigail the temptress that brought him to sin, to make Elizabeth seem like she was some pushy and nagging wife who didn't trust or have faith in her husband. It was literally his own self-insert fanfiction disguised as a magnificent playwright." Rain tilted his head as he digested your words.

     "I've never thought about it like that..." He said, the gears in his brain turning with quotes and lines from the play. "But that makes total sense, because John Proctor was portrayed as a man who regretted being unfaithful to his wife and would do anything to regain his wife's trust. Didn't he say something like, 'I'd rather chop off my own hand then reach for you again, we never touched'?" You nodded.

     "And then Miller spent the whole book making Abby this evil girl who is power-hungry and would do anything at all for attention, going as far as to denounce herself as a witch just so she could hold the power of declaring the other women in Salem witches, mainly Elizabeth, because she wants John to herself."

     "It's synonymous with Miller's life... he wanted to take the blame away from himself and turn his mistress into the bad guy because she was a beautiful and glamorous movie star, and he was some humble playwright." Rain supported your statement.

     "Exactly." You grinned. "Just another case of misogyny benefitting the man and making him millions."

     "I hate to say it, but what a genius execution." Rain confessed.

     "And that's why I wrote a whole twenty page essay on it for my senior thesis in highschool." Your finger pointed at him in agreement.

     "What grade did you get?"

     "A 'B'. My teacher didn't like the thesis because it contradicted her own personal beliefs, but she said it was well written and had an 'excellent use of vocabulary' so that's why she didn't fail me." You sighed. You were still miffed about that all these years later.

     "Were you big on writing essays testifying against popular scummy authors?" He leaned back onto the stone wall of the practice room, his legs still tucked under him in the same criss-cross position they had been in for over an hour. His involvement in the compelling conversation was much more important to him than the numbness in his feet.

     "Eh, not really. Guess I was feeling like a little punk at the time. Playwrights aren't my kind of genre."

     "What is?" He asked curiously. You clicked your tongue in thought.

     "I'm not sure, actually. I kind of just bounce around different titles and authors to see what I like. What about you?" You passed the question to him. He hummed with his contemplation.

     "I guess I'm quite into science-fiction, historical fiction, adventurous themes... you know, like 'Moby Dick', 'The Andromeda Strain', all that."