He packs for his trip, listens to the drum and patter of the rain on the roof, in the grass- the sound floating in from the slightly open window along with the damp breeze. And he can't wait to get away from it. He makes himself believe that it's the rain and dreary weather he wants to flee from so he doesn't feel so raw and on the verge of crying so often.
He looks up to the window to see raindrops slowly sliding down, like that single tear he'd wiped away after her rejection, like the additional tears he'd failed to keep inside after she'd rejected him a second time. Frustrated, he stuffs a hooded sweatshirt into his carry-on, and he hears a knock on his door. It sounds hollow in his ears- the constant headache he's had for the past two weeks of trying so hard to be in the same room with her at work has taken its toll.
That's done now, though. After he gets back from Australia, he'll be in Stamford where he can get through a day without seeing her face every time he looks up. Won't be reminded of what she felt like pressed up against him, won't be forced to remember what her lips felt like on his own, see her hands and remember what they felt like in his hair and trailing down his chest.
As he opens the door, the rushing sound of the rain gets louder, and so does the thrum of his own heartbeat in his ears as he sees her there, standing in the rain outside his house. He knows she's been crying- her eyes are red and puffy, her tentative smile is sad, and he aches to hold her.
He's unprepared for what she's about to say.
"Don't go."
It sounds funny in his ears over the slapping sound of the rain on the sidewalk and the rush of his heart in his ears.
"Pam..." he knows he sounds pathetically sad- all his feelings betrayed with just that one word, one syllable, almost pleading for her to stop playing with his heart. Like he can't let his heart hope anymore for fear of it physically breaking.
"Jim, just-- don't go."
"But I already have a plane ticket. It's non-refundable." He has no idea what else to say, why she is here, telling him not to go when she'd already rejected him twice. What right does she have?
She looks hurt for a moment, and then determined; more determined than he's ever seen her. "I want you," she says, and he finds himself overwhelmingly proud of her for making a decision that has more to do with her wants than what she feels like she should do. She's moving toward him, reaching for him in slow motion, and his whole world is spinning around, and soon, she's kissing him the way he'd kissed her: sweet and tentative and slow. Her lips are so soft, he feels his throat tighten and his breath hitch.
He slowly steps out onto the porch, placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her backward from under the awning and out into the falling rain with him. He needs to feel something in addition to her, to know this is all real.
When he feels the cool raindrops hitting his face and shoulders in contrast to her warmth and softness, he knows without a doubt that this is, in fact, really happening. And he shivers a little, his body unable to handle the contrast in the sensation- warm body, cool rain. Soft hair, harsh water. Slow lips, hurried raindrops...
When he gains a bit more control over himself, he slides his hands slowly down her arms and slips his fingers between hers, gripping them loosely and stroking her palms with his thumbs.
And there they continue to kiss in the rain; a new beginning.
Rain by PuffingNoise
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their
respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.
The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any
media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended
respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.
The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any
media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended
PuffingNoise is the author of 41 other stories.
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