I think he's one of them. The ones who fell from the sky and lost their path. The ones who were thrown out from their homes for something they did.
I see it in his eyes when he looks outside when it thunderstorms. The grey sky matches the stormy emotion in the depths of his eyes. I can see the tenseness in his jaw as he holds back something I can't completely understand. I feel it when he hugs himself and closes his eyes. When he has nightmares I can see it by the way his mouth opens to shout, but his voice fails him.
He'll turn away from me. He'll build more walls the longer the rain continues.
Sometimes, he cries. It's only when I come home late and he's watching the thunder once more. His face never changes, never frowns, never flinches. It stays blank, but somehow sorrowful as he sits in a chair across from the window.
I wonder, in the moments he cries, what he thinks of. I wonder what he remembers. I place my things down and hug him from behind. I let my arms slip over his shoulders and rest on his chest. That's when he turns his head and places his head in the crook of my neck. He doesn't sob, but instead I feel his eyelashes flutter and close. I stand straight with my arms around him and guide the both of us to bed. On one night, I fall asleep as he tells me his story.
That night I dreamt of him. I dreamt as if I was watching his life as a movie. It was if I was in the movie theater. His story is sad. It tells me of his family, of his father, of his brothers and sisters. His story stops playing when I see him and his wings, standing in front of what seems to be a house similar to mine.
I woke up the next morning with his hand in mine. I let the dream simmer in my mind, but it vanishes when he wakes up and places a kiss to my forehead. When I turn to him all he does is kiss me again, but I can see that there's another emotion hidden in his eyes.
As time goes on, I see the emotion more and more. It reminds me of relevant fondness and even some melancholy. When the warmer days of the year come, I take my time and lay in the sun on the porch. He always sits with my head in his lap. When he closes his eyes with a smile and a hand in my hair, it seems like the world is warmer.
The sun keeps the two of us warm and comfy when we sit outside, so we do it often. I've had people tell me stories of his look when they come over. They say that when he looks at me while I'm enjoying the weather, his eyes become ten times brighter, and his smile widens. His personality comes to life during the warmer days. Friends swoon and tell me they wished someone would look at them like that.
Time passed just like that. With fewer thunderstorms and more sunshine days. On the day of our seventh year together it was a sunny day. He sat me down with me in his arms outside and I kissed his cheek.
"Do you know why I like sunny days?" He had asked.
I smiled at him before answering. "They remind you of good days don't they?"
He laughed and shook his head. "They're just like you. On rainy days, I'm reminded of myself. All of my life hasn't been so great, but then there was you. You laughed, and it was warm. You smiled, and it was bright. You kissed me and it was like I was at home."
I covered my face with his hands and laughed at him.
He took his hands away to hug me before speaking again.
"With you it makes sense that rainy days are always followed by the sunny ones."
