You liked rain. You liked it so much. Even though it made you feel a little sad, you loved the melancholy it brought. You used to say the pitter-patter calmed you as much as it made you feel sad. I used to wonder why it always seemed to rain when we were together. I guess it was because of you. It was your blessing and the curse.

The rain was soft, almost a whisper against the window, creating a rhythmic patter that filled the room like an old, familiar lullaby. It fell in silver sheets, the drops catching the light from the dim lamps inside, making the garden outside blur into a canvas of deep blues and greys. The air was cool, crisp with the scent of wet earth and fresh grass, while the gentle storm painted everything in shades of melancholy. Yet, within this cocoon of warmth, wrapped in a blanket, it was anything but sad. It was intimate, the kind of quiet only two people could share while the world washed away outside.

I shifted closer to you, the fabric of the blanket soft between us, and felt the way your body relaxed into mine. You were warm, content, but your eyes were far away, following the path of the rain as it danced against the windowpane.

"When I was back at the orphanage, I used to throw tantrums when it rained," you said, a soft chuckle slipping through your words, your lips twitching into a half-smile.

"Because you were feeling sad?" I asked, my voice low, matching the hush of the storm outside.

"No," you shook your head, still smiling, "They wouldn't let me go out. I wanted to dance in the rain."

You looked at me then, your eyes meeting mine, and in that gaze, I saw it—the child you once were, full of defiance and longing, the desire to break free from the walls that kept you inside. There was a spark there, something wild and untamed, something that hadn't been dulled by life's trials.

"They were probably just worried you'd get sick," I murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, my fingers lingering on your cheek.

"They were," you sighed, your gaze drifting back to the rain. "But when I got a little older, I'd just sit under the shower when it rained and imagine being outside, dancing in it."

For a moment, we were both silent, listening to the sound of the rain beating steadily against the world outside. I watched the way the raindrops trailed down the glass, tracing unpredictable paths like the emotions swirling between us. The world felt both distant and so very close, suspended in the stillness of the moment.

And a thought resurfaced in my mind. I tossed the blanket aside, the comforting warmth slipping away into the cool night air. You looked at me, startled, the question clear in your eyes.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I stood and held my hand out to you. You didn’t hesitate. Without a word, you took it, your fingers curling around mine. I pulled you up gently and guided you toward the sliding glass door that opened out onto the porch. 

Together, we stepped out into the storm, the chill of the rain hitting us like a shock, but it didn't matter. The moment your feet touched the wet earth, you laughed—a sound so pure, so full of life, it cut through the grey like a ray of light. The rain soaked us instantly, our clothes clinging to our bodies, but it felt exhilarating.

You pulled me into the dance, your hands on my waist, guiding me through the puddles, spinning me around. The rain was relentless, falling in heavy drops that streaked down your face, mingling with your laughter. The garden around us blurred into motion, the black, blue, and white of the world swirling together in a beautiful chaos. Your eyes found mine again, shining, full of that same wild spark, the rain framing your face like a portrait I wanted to memorise.

I pulled you closer, our bodies swaying in time with the rhythm of the storm, our movements fluid and free. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, spinning under a sky painted with storm clouds and lightning. You leaned your forehead against mine, your breath mingling with the rain.

It reminded me of the day when I first saw you dance to my piece. It was as if the world breathed for the first time. Each movement was a delicate stroke of colour on a plain canvas, painting something I hadn't realised was missing. The way you moved made my notes tangible, your body translating my silent melodies into something vivid. Watching you brought the warmth of something unspoken, a connection that vibrated through my fingers every time I touched the keys.

We have danced countless times. Or rather, you have danced to my music. You were the one who made me realise that the notes could feel more than what I'd written, that the music could linger long after the sound had faded. Every twist, every leap, every pause was a conversation, a language we both spoke but never dared to name. You made the music breathe, live, in a way I never could on my own.

The way you danced—it was as if you were translating every emotion I poured into the piano into something visible, something tangible. You were my audience, you were my performance, you were my muse, the one who took what I gave and transformed it into something more.

So I kept playing. For you, for us. Every note, every chord was me reaching out, trying to touch that part of you that only emerged when you danced. As you moved, I found my own solace in you, in the way you made the music come alive, in the way you made me feel. You calmed me in a way I could no longer pretend to be calm for my own good.

We had come so far. I never expected to find this, to feel this, in the first place. But there you were, and there I was, and there had been no turning back. The music had changed, the world had defined us in many more, not-so-romantic ways, but I hadn't minded it anymore. Because as long as you kept dancing, I would keep playing for you, hoping that maybe, just maybe, together we could create something that wasn't black or white, but something beautifully in between.

Now that we didn't have the music playing around us, I could still feel the same rhythm in you. It was in the way you guided our movements, the way our feet kissed the ground, each step creating a small splash as water flew up around us. Your hair sprayed droplets like fireworks, and your constant, content laughter was a melody I never wanted to end. I wished for this moment to freeze in time, to lock us away from the world and its chaos. Just you and me, and this peaceful life.

As much as you loved it, I wished for it just as much. Yet, there were certain luxuries we could not afford. We were to survive another dawn, and sooner or later, I'd have to leave you on your own. I would leave only a promise, but no guarantee of my return.

The rain seemed to soften, its relentless downpour becoming a tender drizzle that brushed lightly against our skin. Each droplet that fell was now a delicate kiss from the sky, mingling with our laughter and the warmth of our shared breath. The rhythm of our steps gradually slowed to match the soft pour. We twirled less frequently, our movements becoming more deliberate and close, our bodies aligned in a way that felt intimate and reassuring.

The splashes of water grew quieter as we slowed. With a final, lingering twirl, we came to a gentle stop, our faces inches apart—our feet no longer dancing but simply standing in the cool, slick grass. The air was thick with the fresh, earthy scent of rain, mingling with the faint sweetness of the flowers that bloomed defiantly in the downpour.

You looked up at me, your face illuminated by the soft, muted light of the overcast sky. Your hair was plastered to your forehead, droplets sliding down your cheeks like tears of joy. The droplets clung to your lashes and the curve of your lips, making you look like a vision from a dream. Your eyes sparkled with a happiness that was both innocent and profound, reflecting the steady, gentle rhythm of the rain.

I smiled at you, my heart full of a mixture of love and sorrow that I couldn't word into. You returned my smile.

You would learn how much of myself I had held back, simply because I was so eager to see that smile on your face for as long as I could. We would survive, and I'd do everything in my power to make sure you'd be alright, safe and sound, even when I wasn't around. 

"Garret," you murmured softly, those inquisitive eyes searching for something in mine.

"Hm?" I responded, my voice barely holding steady.

"Teach me how to shoot. Teach me how to fight."

My breath caught, and I blinked, unsure if I had heard you right. "Wha–what?"

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a moment, fingers nervously fiddling with the damp edges of your shirt. The soft patter of rain around us seemed to fade, replaced by the weight of your words, making everything still. "I want to be useful."

I took a step back, feeling the air between us grow thick, heavy with the implications of what you were asking. My heart twisted painfully in my chest. "Do you not feel safe with me?"

"No, Garret, it's not like that. I wouldn't feel safer anywhere else." You shook your head, your voice laced with urgency. "But I don't want to be protected, Garret. I want to survive here. With you."

"Ahen..." I started, my voice soft, uncertain.

"Please, Garret," you interrupted, stepping closer. Your eyes locked on mine, full of determination. "Give me a chance. I promise you won't regret it."

I looked at you, my chest tightening with conflicting emotions. "It's not that I doubt you, not one bit," I said, my voice thick. "It's just—you don't have to do this. You don't have to change because of me.

"But I do," you insisted, lifting your head, eyes glistening—not from the rain but from something deeper. "I can't just stand by and watch anymore. I want to help. I need to."

My pulse raced, a part of me resisting the idea entirely. "No," I said, my voice firmer than I intended. "This isn't the life for you. You don't understand what you're asking, Ahen. This... this world, it'll break you."

You stepped closer, your expression soft but determined. "I'm already in this world, Garret. And you can't protect me from it forever. I don't want to be someone you have to shield. I want to be someone who you rely on."

I shook my head, the rain blurring my vision as it dripped from my hair, mixing with my own frustration. "It's not that simple. You don't know what it's like. The things I've done, the things I'll have to do... You don't belong in that. I can't let you become someone you're not."

You bit your lip, and I could see the conflict tearing at you, the need to be close to me battling with the fear of what it meant. "I know I'm not like you," you said softly, "but I've made my choice. I can't just watch you carry this burden alone."

I wanted to protest more, to tell you that you were wrong, that you could stay out of this, that you didn't have to sacrifice yourself like this. But the look in your eyes—the quiet resolve—I knew you had already made up your mind.

"Ahen, I don't want to lose you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper now. "Not to this."

"You won't lose me," you whispered back, reaching for my hand, your touch warm despite the cold rain. "You'll find me here, beside you, where I'm meant to be."

I pulled you close, my arms wrapping around you tightly as the rain soaked through both of us. The warmth of your body against mine felt like a last bit of hope in a world that demanded too much. I wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to shield you from what was coming, but deep down, I knew I couldn't.

"I just don't want you to change," I murmured against your hair, my voice trembling.

You looked up at me, your gaze steady, even as your lips quivered slightly. "I'll still be me, Garret. Just... stronger. For you."