Li Xiao-lang (li_xiaolang) wrote in tomoeda_high,
Li Xiao-lang

It was depressing. Not seeing daylight, for what it felt like; ever. The room was cold. An empty sense; everyone felt it. Doubtless the absence of light made it merely psychosomatic. Still, it gave him chills.

What's going to happen? seeped into all his questions; expecting for her to know the answer. Their desperate search over the last few weeks left them no closer to finding the lotus. And it was agonizing.
Food lost it's taste, sleep lost it's revitalization. The power faltered from time to time; similar to his faith. But she never once gave up on him.

And at the same time he was grateful. For her. She held him up, kept him whole -- other wise he'd shatter, into a million pieces. Her soothing touch calmed his fears. The scent of cherries increasing with her closeness. The smell alone calming his muscles, the tension in his eyes; the aching dread in his chest. She was like an essential oil, washing away the worry.

The bright glow of green; digital numbers illuminated the darkness of the room. Sleep found him easier than before. He'd pass out in her bed; the middle of the day. Waking into disorientation. What happened? Confused until the nightmare came rolling back into his mind. It wasn't a dream.

Soon he woke up. And it was silent. The house was still and his breathing momentarily seized. Pushing himself up, feet neatly slid into the green cotton slippers, shuffling across the wood plank floor. Hesitating, something was different. Pushing the drapes aside; he witnessed the absence of rain. Tomoeda still drenched by Mother Nature; streets slick, trees weighed down, black clouds low in the atmosphere. But nothing was falling. Was it a sign?

"The rain it--"
Then clamor on the first floor. Feet carried him down the staircase; speed hinted in his step. The oak framed door stood open, a silhouette of a girl at the threshold. Mei. Was he dreaming? Her figure was hard to mistake. Calloused fingers stretched into a reach, closer, relief in his eyes; expectancy to meet with those of ruby. Contact was made upon a slender shoulder.

He blinked, a rush of cherry blossoms invading his nose. "Your awake."
Confusion coating his face. "What's wrong?" Was it another dream; or just desperation to have her back. Optimism plunged down his visage. Perplexity present, doing his best to hide it. He pulled her into an embrace. Like he hadn't held her in months. The cinnamon strands tickling the brim of his nose. Weight on her shoulder, burying his face against the cream of her neck. Soft, comforting; home.

He whispered against her ear, warm breath traveled down her neckline. "The rain stopped."

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