a/n: reviews... please...

When It Rains

It was raining.

The weather was perfect for my train of thoughts. I don't think I could've stayed so depressed if the sun was out and the clouds went away for the day. I stared out the window and sighed. He was gone.

That's what it all stemmed down to, wasn't it? The reason for my depression. The fact that he had left without even a word to me. That hurt.

He was supposed to love me until the end of time. At least that's what he'd told me when he'd put this ring on my finger. And I believed him. A bitter laugh escaped me. I was a fool. I still am, I guess.

I'm sitting here, waiting for him to come back. For anything really. A postcard, a phone call, a visit, a message boy, an e-mail... Anything! I sighed again. Then I moved away from the window. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stare out at the weather that was just as miserable as I was.

I opted for laying on my bed and looking at the ceiling. It was rather boring, really. Nothing interesting. I wasn't the type to hang mirrors on my ceiling to make my sexual encounters more sensual. And I didn't have a TV put there because I find it stupid that people actually do that...

No. It was just a ceiling. A blue one. Like his eyes. A growl fell past my lips. I wasn't supposed to be thinking of him. I was supposed to be thinking about how I could make my ceiling more interesting without mirrors or TVs. But my thoughts kept drifting off towards him.

I guess it didn't help that my room was painted the same color as his eyes. That in itself was a coincidence. Entirely. I'd done it before I even met him. And then after I had... It was just another reminder of him late at night when I couldn't sleep.

No it didn't help at all.

I started wondering if he was restless. The rain had always made him itch to do something physical. And it usually ended up in my bed. That made me glad I hadn't hung any mirrors. It would have taken away from the atmosphere he managed to create without trying.

I found myself sighing again. I couldn’t' help it. It was such a natural response to my emotions. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something other than him.

But I couldn’t. It was like a disease, I thought sadly. And I was terminal by now. He was so deeply engrained into my entire being, my heart, that I couldn’t get free.

And I just couldn't stand it.

There was no reason for him to leave. None. We were happy. He had asked me to marry him last April and I had agreed. We had already set a date, were about to send out invitations... That was all over now, I suppose. I rolled onto my side and stared at my alarm clock instead.

There was nothing about it that could remind me of him, I told myself. So I stared at it, trying to find something in it that would remind me of him. He hadn't gotten it for me for my birthday or anything ridiculous like that, but he had thrown it across the room once when it went off.

The thought brought a smile to my face. He always knew how to make me smile.

And cry. He knew how to make me cry, too. He'd done a good job this time, though. I had cried myself silly before this dark depression had set in a few days ago. I frowned. I had never been remotely sad before let alone depressed. So it hit harder than it should of.

I even went to the doctor.

And he told me that I was clinically depressed and had offered me a prescription called prozac to help. But I had declined, saying that I wasn't suicidal so it wasn't necessary. He made me promise I'd return if I did get suicidal, though.

I don't think I will.

As much as I miss him, I refuse to let other people down just for him. The fact that I was even thinking things like that made me pause. Did he want me to die? I wondered. No. I don't think he would have wanted me to take my own life. But I think he wanted to break me, though I've no idea why...

And he had broken me. Completely. I'd never been broken before. I'd always been the one who did the walking away or breaking up. I'd never let someone else hurt me.

The clock I was staring at said it was getting to be dinner time.

But I wasn't hungry. I wasn't really hungry much anymore. A side effect of the depression, the doctor had said. I believed him. I'd never lost my appetite before. I rolled over again so I wasn't looking at my clock anymore.

Now I was facing my book shelf. It was jammed with novels of every genre that I found interesting. Quite a few were ones that had migrated from his residence to mine. I could only find a few that were truly mine, but I had read them all.

I was thinking of him again, I realized.

As long as I was going to be doing that I figured I could try to piece things together. Why had he left? Was I not attractive to him anymore? Did he not love me anymore? Did he find someone else to love him?

All these questions swam in my head. I wanted to understand. Watching him walk away had been the most painful experience of my life. My brows furrowed. Why had I let him walk away? That didn't make sense either. The rational part of me would have gotten up off my knees and chased him.

But the heartbroken part of me had stayed there, utterly bewildered. It felt as if I were watching a tragic romance play out before my eyes. Except that it was my life. And I was watching the love of my life walk away. It had been raining that day too, I remember.

Maybe that's why he left. Rain always made him restless. But never restless enough that he felt that he had to leave. Leave me...

I got up. I couldn't stay in my room. It wasn't productive to my thinking. I wanted to know why he left. The real reason. But he hadn't bothered to tell me... He'd simply said, "Good-bye" and left.

I ended up sitting in the bathtub. There was no water and I was not taking a bath. I was just thinking. I found that this place was productive to my thinking. I could think about him clearly. No, he had not offered an explanation. No, he had not been acting odd before he left.

Everything had seemed so normal. So fine. So why had he left? I couldn't answer that question. Not on my own. I wondered if there was someway I could get a hold of me. I suppose I could call his cell phone, but I doubt it would be on.

I don't think he'd respond to my messages either.

He may have even changed his number to prevent me from bothering him. I understood that. If I didn't want to be with someone I would do the same thing. He obviously didn't want to be with me.

I looked at the phone on the counter, wondering why I had a phone in my bathroom. Then I remembered. He had put it in here, saying it was good for when I was in the shower and couldn't hear the phone in the other room. This way I could answer the phone.

I still thought it was a stupid idea.

It could be useful now, though. I stood up and picked it up out of it's cradle and returned to the tub. My fingers caressed the digits. I knew his number by heart, but I didn't want to bug him. He might be busy.

Then I shook my head. I didn't matter if he was busy. I deserved an answer. So I thought. I deserved some closure. I deserved to know why he couldn't stay long enough to explain.

So with a deep breathe, I dialed his cell phone number.

Owari