Disclaimer: Mine. Reibivan is mine, as are his friends and his neighborhood. Yes, I own a neighborhood.

Warnings: None. Safe for young and old.

#1: Rain

It was raining. After weeks of no water the gray clouds had suddenly converged over the most slummy part of the city, deciding to dump their loads onto cracked pavement in a shower of tears. And they did, with the raindrops falling from the heavens to die a lowly death at the hands of gravity, leaving rivers flowing past the clogged gutters, large pools gathering in the plentiful potholes.

Most people were inside, hiding from the sudden downpour. They were staring out at the rain, staying dry and behind the windows of their apartments. The children were watching the weather wistfully, some begging and pleading to be let loose so they could romp in the puddles. The old smiled fondly and remarked that this weather was good for the neighborhood. But no one dared to open the windows and let the water inside. No one wanted to make a mess.

Biv was the only one leaning out of his bedroom window, leaning against the sill as he watched the rain fall almost as if it was a parade. The water crashed down on the crown of his head, then sliding down like rivulets of sweat over his forehead and cheeks, small beads becoming trapped in his eyelashes while the rest dripped off his chin. It fell from the corners of his eyes like tears as he stared at nothing in particular, swinging a chain of nine small paper clips between his fingers, letting them arch left, then right with the occasional well aimed raindrop battering a clip.

He thought the weather was beautiful. The rain falling in sheets so thick it was hard to see through was much better than the sunshine and premature heat they’d experienced for weeks. And it would be over all to quickly, claimed the weather man softly speaking to him through the radio, here one moment and gone the next. Life would stop to wait for an hour at most before going back to its routine, a little damp but unscathed.

So he’d decided to make the most out of the weather while he could, inhaling the scent of the dark clouds and cherishing every crack and rumble from the sky. He watched nature abuse the two lonely trees on the block, knocking fragile leaves to the ground, ripped and shredded.

The weather was violent that afternoon, harsh and angry and terribly beautiful in its strength. He wanted it to rain like this more often. He wanted the winds to blow hard enough to rattle the weak window he was leaning out of. He wanted to go outside the following day and see the street looked more like a river. But very few people shared his preferences, judging by how deserted the neighborhood looked.

There was only one solitary figure running down the street, catholic uniform cut ridiculously short, white shirt long gone closer to clear and sticking to her as she breathed. She stopped under the window, looking up at him through her short dark strands, squinting against the falling water flooding for her eyes.

“Rei!â€