Rain, rain, don't go away.
It's Raining Really Hard
It’s raining really hard. It’s incredibly loud as well. You have a pillow over your head to try to drown out the noise.Usually the rain calms you, but tonight it just irritates you further from your already irritated state. You’ve been laying on the couch trying to get some sleep for the past half hour, but the noisy rain, coupled with the constant frustrated yelling and groaning from your truly significant other coming from upstairs. She’s been working on some project for the last few hours. And before that, she was working for hours on ANOTHER project. And before that, another one. In fact, she’s been cooped up in the room all day. It’s like she never wants to be around you anymore. And there’s no reason for it. She has plenty of time to complete the projects. One of the clients said they didn’t need it for another two months. But she can’t spare a minute for you. It’s been like this for a couple weeks now.
“Damn it, Rarity,” you grumble to yourself, and roll over. That blasted rain is still pounding in your ears. You’d almost anything to drown it out. Emphasis on almost. That big fight you had with Rarity a while ago sure made you forget about the rain and thunder for a while. That was the loudest you’ve ever yelled at her, and the loudest she’s ever yelled back. If you could, however, you would take some of it back. For example, when you both went silent for a moment, you turned around, opened the door and growled “I’m done.” Before the door was very forcefully slammed shut, you could see her eyes widen in shock. It was satisfying at the moment, but now you feel like a huge jerk. She most definitely thinks you’re going to leave her now. But you wouldn’t dream of it. You have been dating her for almost three years now. Life without her is almost unimaginable. This was only the second fight you’ve gotten into with her.
You should probably go up and say something. You haven’t heard her yell or swear to herself in a while, so maybe she finished. Or maybe she calmed herself down somehow. But knowing Rarity, that’s probably not it. She most likely finished, or at least got something working. But if that’s the case, then she probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed. It’s hard to tell. And she’s probably still fuming over the fight. Perhaps it would be best to give her a night to herself. Through experience, you’ve learned that time can be very valuable with anger. Heck, in little over a half hour you’ve calmed down a lot. So that’s probably what she needs. Her beauty sleep has worked wonders in past moments of stress. A good night’s rest will do the trick. You’ll wake up early tomorrow. Make her a nice breakfast and talk to her about the whole situation. You’ve always been described as a good talker by your friends, and by Rarity. It’ll all be better. You’ll be in your own bed by this time tomorrow night. You adjust yourself a little and prepare to go to sleep.
You hear something however. You hear the faucet in the kitchen turn on, and a glass being filled. A long sigh resonates through the semi-silent house and you hear the water go down Rarity’s gullet. Should you talk to her now? She might still be angry. She may be looking at you right now, shaking her head at your uncouth hunched over position on her favorite couch. The nerve of you for screaming at her and not having the decency to at least apologize before draping a pillow across your face and going to sleep. You hold in a smile as you remember all the times Rarity has pointed out your sometimes ‘beastly’ nature. It makes you chuckle sometimes. You miss those times. You don’t want to be mad at her. What a fool you were. You stormed up and yelled at her before even talking to her about it first. You want to hold her again. You lift the pillow from your face and sit up, only to realize she’s no longer in the kitchen, or living room. She must have gone up in her work space again while you were in your thoughts. You stand up and head up the stairs. You take a left. First door on the right. It’s slightly ajar. Peering inside, you can see numerous papers and scraps of fabric strewn about the floor. An inkwell is spilled on the carpet. A display stand is on the floor and an unplugged sewing machine lies in two pieces on the rug.. This is certainly new. Even in her worst of times she has kept her workspace neat and tidy. She would never dream of getting ink on the carpet. You can see her hair is a mess and she has her head down next to an empty glass. Her shoulders bounce as she sobs to herself. This isn’t her usual dramatic over-the-top sobbing. This is real crying. You’ve seen her like this only once, when her sister ran away from home for two weeks. Words begin to make their way through her cries.
“I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t mean to. . . Please. . .”
You did this. You drove her to this. A loud crack of thunder resonates through the house and rattles your bones. You see her jump, but she never raises her head. You push the door open, but she doesn’t notice. You want to move forward, but you’re too horrified by what you’re watching. You pushed her to such a low that she doesn’t care about her hair or her carpet. She doesn’t care about running make-up or a messy room. You pushed her to the point of simply sobbing. It hurts your chest. You want to vomit. It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. You want to reach out. To touch her back. To stroke through her hair. But you can’t move. So you simply call out.
“Rarity.”
She jumps a foot and whirls around to look at you. She says your name and babbles as she tries to come up with an excuse for her current state. After a few moments of failed speech, she resorts to an uncomfortable silence as she simply stares at you. You stare right back as you think of what to do. She looks horrible. Her hair is frayed in a hundred different places. Her eyeliner is running down her face. Her whole body is trembling. She’s trying to stifle post-cry sobs. You can see them in her throat. You lurch forward. Rarity closes her eyes as you wrap her in a warm, tight hug. She doesn’t react at first, only continues to tremble. You bury your face into her shoulder. She speaks your name in a nearly inaudible high-pitched voice. After a moment, you feel her embrace you as well. She hugs you tightly, and you can feel something warm and wet run down your cheek. This is the first time you’ve cried in years. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck and begins to cry again. You can feel your shoulder wetten as she speaks.
“Please don’t leave me,” she says, muffled by your shoulder.
“I won’t. Not ever. I’m so sorry,” you say, another tear trailing down your face. The rain continues to fall outside, smacking against the ground louder than ever. Another clap of thunder sounds out loudly. You rub her back softly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you,” she says, her voice shaky and quiet. She sniffs and sighs. You feel her begin to back away. You don’t want to lose contact with her, but you let her out of your grasp. She moves to her desk and grabs a tissue. She blows her nose and disposes of the tissue. She looks back at you. You touch her cheek gently.
“It’s okay,” you say softly. She leans her head into you, “I should have talked to you first. I forgive you.”
“And I you, dear,” she says softly, kissing your wrist. You smile, and lean in to her. She leans in as well. “I wish I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my work. It really was unnecessary. I feel like I neglected you so badly,” she says, her voice beginning to quiver again. She begins to turn her head away, but you hold it in place. Before she can say anything, you close the gap between your lips and kiss her. She embraces you tightly again as she moves closer to you. Her lips are as warm as ever and slightly wet. Whether they’re wet from tears or saliva, you could honestly care less. You press your forehead against hers. Her forehead is hot, probably from her crying so hard. The kiss lasts for a few more seconds before you move away to breath. Both of your noses are plugged up at the moment.
“Shhh. . .” you whisper, kissing her forehead gently.
“I’m such a fool,” she whispers to herself.
“Hey,” you whisper, looking deep into her bright blue eyes, the whites of which were now a light pink, “No you’re not. You got caught up in something you love to do. No one can blame you for that.”
“But I neglected you so,” she says, kissing your wrist again, “I didn’t see how it made you feel. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, another tear running down her face. You catch it and wipe it away.
“I forgive you, Rarity,” you say, pulling her in for another hug, “And I won’t ever leave you. I won’t even consider it. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she says, nuzzling your shoulder again. “Oh, now look what I’ve done.” You pull your head back and look at her, an eyebrow raised. She closes her eyes tight and tries to wipe away her eyeliner. You look at your shoulder and see that it is now stained a dark black. You chuckle to yourself.
“Come on,” you say, leading her out of the room, “We’ll clean up in here tomorrow.” You blow out the candle that was illuminating the room. You and Rarity walk toward the master bedroom. Two candles had already been lit in here and one in the bathroom. You lead her into the bathroom and she cringes when she sees herself in the mirror. You smile warmly and turn her gaze away from it. You grab a washcloth and run it under the sink. A few minutes pass in silence as you wipe her face clean of any eyeliner or other make-up. She looks at her reflection and dons a look of disgust.
“My hair still looks hideous,” she deadpans. You chuckle again as she walks into the bedroom and lays under the covers. You lie next to her and wrap her in your arms. She yawns deeply, and that causes you to yawn in turn. “I love you,” she says, nuzzling her head into your chest.
“I love you too,” you say, kissing the top of her head.
“I promise you,” she says, looking you in the eye, “I will always make time for you. I will never neglect you again. I give you my word.”
“And I give you my word,” you say, “That I’ll always talk to you first. I won’t ever just yell at you again.” Rarity smiles at this.
“You were justified.”
“I wasn’t. I could have talked to you first.”
“Well, no matter the case, I’m glad to have my sweet tiger back,” she says, nuzzling you again. She always calls you that for some reason. She always found it cute.
“I’m happy to have my little fashionista back,” you say, kissing her head again.
“I love you,” she says, “More than anything in the world.”
“I love you too, over anything else,” you say, a massive smile on your face. Rarity leans in again, and closes her eyes gently. You close your eyes as well, and you feel her warmth on your lips again. It’s the best feeling in the world. The feeling of a true bond. The feeling of repair, of mending, of forgiveness. The feeling of love. Of triumph. Of passion. It’s a feeling you will certainly cherish for a long time.
The rain and thunder now seem of very little annoyance to you.
In fact, you’d prefer for it to stay a while.
