The Rain Remembers

And even as he's pulled away ... yanked from the bench, from the park, by forces stronger than any he can fight at this point ... he knows the answer to his question. He knows that no matter what the reason for it, those green eyes will forever be sad ... lonely, and lost. Unless he can find a way to do something about it.

Gods, he wants to ... wants to go back, and to stay. Stay forever, even if just in that one moment, that one kiss ... touching, holding. Loving.

Struggling still against the inevitable, he cries out soundlessly, promising anything, anything ... to anyone who will listen ... if he can just go back...

Then... he hears something in return. Not quite a voice, but not quite anything else either ... just a feeling, a brush of sensation against his mind... and then it's gone again, and everything goes black.

When he wakes, it's still raining, though he has no idea how long it has been. Minutes, hours... years, perhaps. It's the same park, however, the same bench. Empty now.

Standing slowly, he looks around... runs one hand down his own chest, through trails of water sliding down tanned skin. Real ... solid. Somehow... he doesn't question, though, doesn't care how.

Just turns... and starts walking - uncaring that he has not a stitch of clothing on ... the rain feels good. And he remembers ... the first time. It was raining then, too.

Now ... he's going home. And he can only hope the other is still waiting there for him.