~:~ Barely Human ~:~

~:~ Chapter 4 - Rust, rain and rapport ~:~

~ Since when did the sound of heavy rain drumming against the tin roof of a train compartment bring Keith such peace? Up until a few years ago most of the places he'd moved to pretty much never rained, maybe he was deprived of it? There was something strangely satisfying about sitting there, letting freshly soaked air and soil wash his senses. The rain was dancing, putting on a show just for him. He watches it with a quiet gaze and lips parted and chapped.

His music plays softly in his headphones, to him it was like surround sound. Behind all the flurry of rain. The scorch marks were still there, tattooed into the ground around him. He swings his feet slowly to the beat of the song in his head. Otherwise quiet where he sits in the shelter of the train. His eyes trained on the foggy air the warm rain created. It was gloomy but pretty all the same. Keith sighs.

"What a day..." He says quietly to himself as he turns and looks around inside the train. Spider webs and dust littered it's everything. There were rags and empty booze bottles to indicate the presence of a person sometime ago. Even an abandoned packet of cigarettes. Keith's eyes stayed on the box for a while, his fingers brushing against it. He grabs it and makes a close examination. Three were left.

His eyes find the rain again, he looks to the burnt but wet grass. The damage he'd made. He pulls one out and presses his lips around it.

There he stops, staring down at his hands. The faintest of quivers resides in his fingers. His throat locks up and with the shake of his head he yanks the cigarette from his lips and throws it away. Strain finds his facial features and turns his brows downwards, tense. The packet is promptly tossed aside and forgotten.

He refused to use it, he promised himself he wouldn't. And that meant every little bit. No fire allowed. Keith's face is downcast. His eyes fall onto his hands in his lap. His heart beat is slow and steady.

"I finally found you." A voice chimes out from the rain. Keith's gaze whips up to see Lance standing there, drenched in the cold. His hoodie pulled up over his head and jacket zipped up. He smiles down at Keith, reaches out and takes a lock of his dark, damp hair in a curled finger. "Look at you, you look like a wet rat."

"Says you." Keith scoffs and pushes Lances hand away. Lance grins and motions for the latter to shove over. A second later and the pair are sitting beside one another. Shoulders touching. Gazes apart. Keith breathes quietly, his chest is warm and he doesn't know why. "So you actually came?"

"Yeah. Shit got pretty hectic at home, plus I didn't have any plans." Lance explains to him as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a box similar to the one Keith had just thrown away. Keith watches him light up a cigarette and take a deep breath. Lance pulls it back, breathes out and then his eyes find Keith's, he seems to realize something. "Wanna try?"

"Uh..." Keith hesitates. He's not sure why, it's not like he hasn't smoked before. But something made his throat clog up. Something pure, something breath taking.

Someone beautiful.

Lance raises his brows and holds the smoke out to him as he turns around so he's leaned up against the wall with his body facing the new kid. Keith, once he's finally snapped out of his trance raises drops his head and takes it from him.

He lets the smoke fill his lungs. And just like always it makes him feel different. Alive. This damn curse. Just like fire, smoke wouldn't effect him. Lance watches him with curious eyes and a playful smirk. His head resting back against the frame of the train. Keith hands it over, his eyes on the light downpour again.

"So how you holding up? Settled in yet?" Lance asks, his eyes having never moved from Keith. Keith huffs a laugh and leans back on his hands.

"I haven't been settled in since I was eight or something." He tells Lance. His eyes find the burn marks on wet soil. He's surprised Lance hasn't mentioned it yet but he figured it's not something all that alien in a junkyard like this. Lance hums, his gaze finally finding something else to focus on.