[Fic - the GazettE] Drabble for word #145
Drabble written for the prompt word #145 from 15_minute_fic . Word is under cut in case anyone wants to try it first.
Main character: Kouyou
Word #145: Stormy
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Kouyou hated thunderstorms.
He hated the dark grey clouds that rolled over each other, stifling the sky, expanding and shifting like something alive. He hated the ominous rumbling that sounded seemingly out of nowhere, like the rumblings of the empty belly of some fearsome creature. He hated the big, fat drops of rain that heralded the beginning of something fierce, something to be feared. But most of all, he hated those sporadic flashes of too bright light that illuminated only choice objects in his small room, leaving only shadows of everything he hated in their wake.
In moments like these, when the pitiful whimpers that escaped his dry throat were drowned out by thunder, when the trembling of his clammy hands cast shivering umbras in the lightning, Kouyou felt the most alone. He would lie beneath too thin sheets, flinching at every lash of rain against his window, every howl of wind through the trees.
He would lie there, until a warm body slipped next to him between those sheets, arms encircling him protectively as if to calm the storm that raged both outside his room and inside his heart. And it was in moments like those, when gentle murmurs drowned out the thunder, and a firm chest hid his eyes from lightning, that Kouyou felt the most safe.
Main character: Kouyou
Word #145: Stormy
----------
Kouyou hated thunderstorms.
He hated the dark grey clouds that rolled over each other, stifling the sky, expanding and shifting like something alive. He hated the ominous rumbling that sounded seemingly out of nowhere, like the rumblings of the empty belly of some fearsome creature. He hated the big, fat drops of rain that heralded the beginning of something fierce, something to be feared. But most of all, he hated those sporadic flashes of too bright light that illuminated only choice objects in his small room, leaving only shadows of everything he hated in their wake.
In moments like these, when the pitiful whimpers that escaped his dry throat were drowned out by thunder, when the trembling of his clammy hands cast shivering umbras in the lightning, Kouyou felt the most alone. He would lie beneath too thin sheets, flinching at every lash of rain against his window, every howl of wind through the trees.
He would lie there, until a warm body slipped next to him between those sheets, arms encircling him protectively as if to calm the storm that raged both outside his room and inside his heart. And it was in moments like those, when gentle murmurs drowned out the thunder, and a firm chest hid his eyes from lightning, that Kouyou felt the most safe.