downpour // megapvp

downpour.

there's a little shelf on the side of the window seat. a pile of books rests on it, a steaming cup of green tea casually placed upon the topmost book. it smells nice. soothing.

it's raining outside. he can hear the quiet pitter-patter of the raindrops as they splash on the tiles of the garden outside. there's nothing but nature outside, the way he always preferred for it to be.

mega sighs gently, leaning his head against the window and watching the raindrops race down the glass. somewhere in the distance, he can hear two boys laughing, trying to catch the raindrops on their tongues.

the rain tasted sweet, he remembers. it was ordinary rain to everyone else, but being there with his friend had made it so much sweeter. they had gotten soaked that day, but they were together, so it didn't matter. they warmed each other up.

they wandered around together, carefree smiles lighting up their faces as the rain poured down on them. his friend turned to him and, reaching over, pulled a leaf out of his hair. he handed the leaf to mega.

"i don't want it," mega said, lightly pushing the boy's hand away from him.

"aw, come on," the other boy said, pouting. "it's a friendship leaf. see? it's in the shape of a heart." he ripped away some of the leaf so it looked like a heart, and pressed it into his friend's hand.

mega scowled at his friend, but he pocketed the leaf, and the two of them continued on their way.

mega breathes in the tea's aroma. there's a drawing hanging on the wall facing him, an old sketch from years ago from when he was a boy in middle school art class. there are little heart-shaped patterns all over the framed paper, randomly placed and yet so perfect.

he remembers one day when he was walking home from school. it was lightly raining, but he didn't mind it. the rain always let him lose himself in his thoughts, deafening him to the roar of the outside world. the rain was his savior. after all, he didn't get bullied in the rain.

he caught a shade of pale blue out of the corner of his eye, and he anxiously turned his head, wondering what it was.

it was his friend, holding a baby blue umbrella above them. mega could tell that his friend wanted to look like he was sharing the umbrella, but his friend's hair was starting to get wet and mega knew he was sacrificing his warmth and dryness to help him.

"how are you?" his friend asked, their footsteps synchronizing as they walked down the quiet street. mega closed his eyes and listened to the rain. he didn't want to speak. not after what had happened yesterday.

they walked side-by-side in the worsening rain, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the fact that mega hadn't answered the question.

they reached mega's house and he began to turn when he felt a slight tug on his sleeve. he always wore long sleeves to hide his vitiligo.

"hey.." his friend said, biting his lip. "are you.. alright?"

mega looked at him. neither of them knew that these would be the last words the pained boy would say for a very long time, but both of them could feel the weight of his reply.

"i will be."

--+--

there's a little shelf on the side of the window seat. a pile of books rests on it, a steaming cup of green tea casually placed upon the topmost book. it smells nice. soothing.

no one else remembers, but mega does. he remembers when there were never books on that shelf, remembers when he never drank tea. he remembers the field they ran on, catching droplets on their tongue. he remembers when his friend was there for him, silently keeping him company in his worst moments. he remembers the late night calls, the nights where they sat on the front lawn watching fireflies, the hours they spent in the art classroom, making prints using leaves. he remembers the call from the hospital, the tears that slid down his face when he picked up and listened, and the gravestone he visits every weekend, holding not flowers, but one or two leaves that have had their edges ripped off so they take the shape of a heart.

it's been twelve years since the day they ran around the field, chasing each other and sticking out their tongues, facing the pouring rain. it's been two years since the call. it's been so, so long since he has heard his voice.

he wants to hear it again. though he hasn't thought about what to say, he knows the words that will come out of his mouth before he even parts his lips.

"i miss you."