three - warmer then any scarf

268 41 10
                                    

xxi.

I woke up at 3 in the morning to the sound of thunder outside. As a young child, I had been petrified by storms - the constant battle between the lightning and thunder reminded me of my parents.

I was no longer a young child, and yet I still jumped every time the thunder sounded and the lightning flashed.

xxii.

It rained at the bus stop. He had smiled at me, before hoisting his polka-dotted umbrella up and covering his head.

What really made me confused was why he covered my head as well.

xxiii.

"Hi."

His voice always had been silky and soft - even before nature had forced him to grow up along with the rest of us.

I turned away, not responding. When I had turned back, he had gone.

xxiv.

When he sat down at the bus stop, I caught him off-guard.

"Hi yourself."

xxv.

The next time we sat down at the bus stop, he held my hand.

"What do you think of rain?"

"It doesn't observe very well."

"What do you mean?"

I had stared at him. "That day in grade three."

He stared back. "You saw?"

"I was the only one who did. Nobody else saw."

"But what does that have to do with the rain not being observant?"

"Don't you see? Nobody saw. Nobody, not even the rain."

xxvi.

His hands were warmer then any scarf in the world, and his kisses were sweeter then any lolly in the world.

Put them both together and accompany them with sex and Alex Turner's voice in the background, and it was almost enough to change me into an optimistic person. Almost.

xxvii.

I thought we would go back to strangers the next day, but he left me a daisy chain in my mailbox after school.

The queen had her king - she had been revived.

xxviii.

"I love you."

"I waited so long for you to say that."

xxix.

A pessimist and her lover. A story for all poets and pretenders.

A story worthy of awards.

xxx.

Nobody ever did understand our relationship. People questioned it, doubted it for everything it was and everything it could be.

Nobody understood it.

Nobody, not even the rain.

So, we reach the end of the story. It was my attempt at a short, somewhat different love story. Dedicated to @antiquated because of the beautiful cover she made for this story.

Nobody, Not Even The RainWhere stories live. Discover now