Rainy Day

You hear the rhythmic drumming of the rain splatting on the smooth stones of the sidewalk. You hear the low grumble of thunder miles away out of sight. You hate all the navy blue of the situation. You hate how limited you are to a few drops of water. How much it controls every move you make. Or how the light of the sun that signals hope is ripped from you from something that looks like tears and signals sorrow. You grind your jaw at it all. You feel redness. Not blood red, but purple almost. A few minutes later you hear his smooth voice asking you what's wrong. You say how much you hate the rain, and how it limits you. You sound croaky and tired. Given up. He purses his lips, deep in thought and grabs your hands. He politely pulls you from the warmth of your home and forces you into the coldness, and springiness of the rain. It feels like dark blue mixed with dark evergreen. Ugly, bad color. He gently picks you up and lays you on the wicker bench outside on the porch. It's freezing, and damp. You're wondering what he's doing. Your face said it all, lavender most likely.
"Changing your opinion." He says. His words sounding like orange. Not like clementine orange no, like sunset. Mixed with sun yellow. Your favorite color.
You don't ask what that means. You're used to his boyish charm, and mystery. You smile at the thought of it all while he gently sits next to you, making the bench creak. It was until now you realized he had his ukulele with him. He grazes his fingers over the strings so effortlessly. While he was arranging the ukulele in his hands you softly rest your head in his lap. You feel his light fingers run through your hair. Feels like baby pink.. little darker than cotton candy, but still a warm pink. The heat immediately warming your cold bones, you close your eyes, ignoring everything around you. You feel like you're flying. You don't feel all the sadness from the rain. No instead you feel as if you are the rain. Falling at your own beat. Not caring what you land on. Just landing on something. You got snapped back to reality as he's tuning his ukulele. You flare your nostrils at him, trying to look menacing. He just looks down at you and smiles. His eyes light up from his dark mocha color to a light caramel. You get a glint of gold color around the pupil. Beautiful you think to yourself, as he warmheartedly shakes his head at you. Feels like yellow. Baby shower yellow. You can't help but smile back lovingly at him. You sit and watch him for awhile. You notice how his hair is in dark brown curls pressed against his forehead. Streaks of blonde poking through. You can't help but think of corkscrews. You trace down his face to his eyes. They went back to their normal mocha brown. The gold gone like usual. You always wondered what goes on behind them. You follow the curvature of his eyes to his eyelashes. Long and curly. Just barely touching. You get distracted by him licking his lips. Slightly chapped. On days like this they fade into his skin effortlessly. They're slightly parted due to him concentrating. They remind you of autumn. Serious but soothing. The calm before the storm. He gently pulls them back to reveal a dimple. You always adored them. Bother him in public to make his face go strawberry red. They don't remind you of strawberry red. Oh no. They remind you of baby blue. The baby blue where there is no clouds in the sky. The baby blue where you can't help but look. Touch. You find yourself closing your eyes again, dreaming of his baby blue dimples. You falling heavier as you hear him start strumming a song. Not exactly a song more like.. THE song. The song that made you feel Xanadu. Light. You take a deep breath in, like it's propelling you upwards. Flying. His voice is like gravel. Rough but silky. You felt each raindrop twist and turn into his words. Twisting up into a warm beige color. Almost like sitting next to a window on a windy day sipping a coffee. The twisted notes seep into your skin, creating a new home. You feel yourself drifting away into this wooden color. You strain your ears to listen to the beloved rain, but fail as you drift too far. You shut your eyes as you carelessly fall asleep. The last thing you felt was him putting down his ukulele and tenderly grabbing your dry hands. Yes. Defiantly Xanadu.