Brendan Murray: The Collection

Storm

A/N:
Hi!

Another update to this collection. This one is a bit shorter than my usual. A ficlet, I would call it something. This had been a request from a dear friend of mine and I couldn't help but take on what she was asking.

Word count: approximately 400 words.

This ficlet is gender neutral. No physical attributes had been mentioned except for the smell of their hair.

This had been proofread.

—Meg x

"Storm"
A Requested Ficlet

He ran.

It was like he was moving on autopilot once he heard their voice quivering and whimpering on the phone. The softness of his bed and the warmth his blankets offer are left forgotten as he scrambled up and ran to where he knows she would be.

The air was cold and biting against his skin but it hadn't deterred him. Eyes wild and flashing with worry, he let his legs carry him to a playground that is covered in darkness.

He heard them before he saw them. Following the muffled sobs that is leaving cracks on his heart with each step he takes, he tried not to think about how his lungs are burning from running or how his clothes are sticking against his skin due to sweat.

He called out their name, softly, gently like he was coaxing a wounded puppy. His voice was so gentle it seemed like the wind swept it away  as they breezed by him.

Leaves dancing against the damp grassy floor, Brendan knelt down right in front the opening of the raised platform. The greenish blue eyed boy softly called out for their name again.

As thunder rang against their ears, arms shot out of the opening and a body slamming against his waiting opened arms.

Sobs and the rumble of the impending storm filled his ears and he never heard such a heartbreaking combination before. Words he couldn't even understand, he cradled them in his arms and just listened until they calmed down.

As soon as sobs turned into sniffles and the rain softly kissing their skins, the dark haired boy didn't think twice. He stood up as he carried them in his arms and walked back to his place.

Unlit playground slowly disappearing from the heart breaking picture of two people walking away, the wind mellowed down into a caress against skin.

Words slipping out of his lips and whispered against their citrus scented hair, he briefly closed his eyes as he denied every hurtful word they had thrown their way.

Cradled and warm, his words became a blanket of truth and sincerity.

Beautiful. Good enough. Exquisite. It doesn't matter. Love. It's just a number. You.

Ah, yes. His words are enough. He is enough.