What Rain Brings [Solangelo]

What Rain Brings

People are classified into two sets. Dog people and cat people. The ones who drink tea, the ones who need coffee. A messy room, and a clean room.

A book worm, a movie watcher.

Morning people, and people who wake up at two in the afternoon.

Those who like the rain, and those who like the sun.

Will is a sunny person. He likes the warmth and brightness, and he likes being able to see without having to try. He's not very big on rain. It's cold, and noisy. It's obnoxious. 

It's also is the cause of many car accidents, which is why Will feels uncomfortable in the back of Jason's pickup truck on some lurching road in the middle of a pelting downpour. He tries to keep his composure, but he notices that his hand is griping the wall of the truck's bed so tightly his knuckles are white.

Quickly, he takes his arm of the wall and puts his hand in his lap. Then, since he moved against the places his body heat was reciprocating and lost what little warmth he had, he shivers and lifts his legs up to cover his arms. He wishes he brought a jacket. But, it's California, he had thought, it never rains here.

"Are you cold?" asks Nico, sitting across from him. Jason's truck is big, but their squad is bigger, and so every time they all hung out, two of them have to sit in back. This instance, it is Nico and Will.

Will shakes his head, little raindrops shooting out from his curly hair, but a particularly big raindrop lands right in the middle of his head, and he feels the water travel slowly down the contours of his skull, and his body bends in discomfort unwillingly, turning his gesture into something else entirely. 

Nico laughs a little, and pulls his jacket over himself tighter. "It sucks it had to rain today," he says, sounding bummed. 

"Really?" Will manages, his aim for conversation. He's surprised he can keep his voice level in the cold. "I would've thought you'd be a rain kinda guy."

"I am. I like the rain," Nico says, shrugging. "I just don't like to sit in it." With his foot, he gestures toward the puddle that was beginning to build at the center of the truck, where the beginning of the bed meets the part inside where everyone sits. Then Nico looks away, windward, toward the road they drive over. He sighs. "It's pretty though." 

Will takes a look, and tacitly agrees. The yellow and red taillights shine against the falling rain and the road, lighting up the yellow strip at the center of the street, to the left of them. Directly above them are rain clouds, but it is not so in the distance, where they can see some stars and a dark blue sky.   

They sit in what would be silence if it weren't for their friends laughing and screaming inside the truck. Their sounds of joy were muffled, but audible even with the rain and wind. From behind the rear window, Jason's shade is pulled down, blocking Nico's and Will's sight of them. It isn't quiet, but it is peaceful in a sort of way; it is serene, tranquil. The wind blows around them and the rain drenches them, and they get lost in the own thoughts.

This is why Will likes Nico. Nico appreciates silence, not try to fill up every moment with it.

Time passes, and with each minute taken, more cold is given. Will sat perfectly still while he thought, his back arched awkwardly against the wall, and it starts to hurt. He tries to rearrange himself, but then he realizes he can't move his hand.  

What? he thinks. 

That scares him. It wasn't that cold. Will stares at his hand, which looks a little clammy and dead in the rain. It rests against his knee, and Will's eyes bore into it, concentrating. Finally, his index finger twitches, and Will gasps.