Jealous Of The Rain. // Larry Stylinson.

1.

Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie but kept the hood down so the rain could hit his face. His hair was already getting soaked and sticking to him but he didn't care. He enjoyed the rain, enjoyed the wind against his face. He wouldn't enjoy the wet jeans when he had to drive home but for now he was content. He was standing on the sidewalk of a bridge that led from one part of town to the part he lived in. He loved coming here when it rained. He loved watching the water underneath turn from blue to gray when it rained, loved the way the water picked up and turned into small currents as the storm slowly began to brew. Harry just loved the rain. He loved how the air smelled moments before it happened and how the world looked when it ended.

He breathed in the smell of the rain, absorbed the sound of the water moving beneath him. This was peace for Harry and he took advantage of it because he would soon have to return to the place that should have been home. A rich family, a huge house but it might as well have been empty. There were never family dinners around the unnecessarily large dining room table. There was never any laughter in the living room that was far too fancy for just three people living there. Way too many bedrooms, bathrooms, and a large yard that only Harry got use out of. He felt alone in the cold hallways of that house and always took the opportunity to get away from it when he could. Mainly only when it rained because he knew his parents wouldn't ever leave to check on him.

He closed his eyes as the rain continued to pour down on his face. He could pretend that he would drive home to his own place; a small apartment with a balcony overlooking the city. It would be his own place. His own safe haven. He couldn't leave. Not with his mom being sick and his father not paying attention to her the way he really should. Harry wasn't stupid. They could pretend all they wanted but Harry just knew that his mom was on her own at the moment. Behind their closed bedroom door he didn't know what was going on but he was there for his mom when he could be. To make sure she took her medicine, drank enough water, got enough rest. He did the best he could. Even when she yelled and told him to leave her alone.

He wished more than anything he could just pack up and leave but there was guilt weighing on him for even thinking that. He could never just leave when the woman who gave him life was struggling to keep her own.

"Damn it." Harry whispered.

He pressed his palms into his eyes and took a few deep breaths. At least rain could hide the fact he had been crying. He let out a huff before grabbing the railing so he could peer down over further. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like if he jumped and just let the water carry him. He knew it was deep enough for him to jump but he was afraid of not being on the ground. He loved having his feet touch something and he would be more panicked about the few seconds in the air than he would be actually being swept away.

"Don't do it."

Harry jumped and turned his head to see a young man standing there in nothing but a t shirt and shorts staring at him. Wet, brown hair was sticking to his skin, blue eyes peering at him. They seemed to sparkle in the midst of the rain and the dreary atmosphere that was building.

Wow, was the only word Harry could think of.

He shook his head like a wet dog to pull himself out of his thoughts, "What?"

"Jump." The guy replied, stepping closer, "Don't jump."

"I wasn't going to." Harry told him, "I was just watching the water is all."

Harry didn't understand how the guy was wearing nothing but a t shirt and shorts but he wasn't going to ask.

The guy moved closer and leaned his arms on the railing right beside Harry, "You wouldn't be able to breathe if that water took you over."