Rain and Tears

      Michael didn't like rain, because his weak psyche couldn't handle such weak emotions, and the reason was if it was on his dead brother's birthday. Five years had passed since that day, but he couldn't just let it go. his conscience wouldn't let go. Blue as the sky eyes stared into the gray clouds in parts darker than the others that poured unbearable rain. Michael wanted to howl at such an assault of stress and emotion. The brown-haired man's eyes stared at the calendar date that so brazenly showed the damned date. Hearing three knocks on the door, Michael only said a dry "open" as a concerned father walked into his room.       "Michael, is everything okay? You haven't been out of here since this morning..." William looked puzzled, seeing his son like this, he knew what was wrong and didn't want to broach such a sore subject.       "Everything is just disgusting! I just hate the rain, and it's on this fucking day!" Michael shouted, then threw himself into his father's arms. Afton looked at his son's body and put his hand in his hair, his other hand stroking his back. He could feel his legs heaving as his son's chest heaved, that he was breathing so intermittently. Sobs and whimpers came out of his mouth, feeling his tears wet his father's shirt. William only hummed, then lifted the sobbing child into his arms and both of them sat down on Michael's bed. The brown-haired man himself sobbed at the top of his voice, sometimes whimpering like a little puppy. Afton loved seeing the tears on his boy, always realizing that he would come and comfort him, listening to him sob loudly and whimper into his shirt.       "Mi-ichael, hush, I'm right here... Try to let it go? You know what the therapist told you, right?" William muttered, looking the man in the top of his head. Michael stood up and then went to the drawer, pulled out a blank ruled sheet of paper and his pencil, sat down in a chair and began to write all about his regrets to his brother, occasionally looking out the window. Taking another ragged breath and Michael finished his sheet.       "Uh.. Father, do you have any s-sleepers...?" Michael asked, staring his tear-red eyes at Afton, who in turn nodded and then pulled out a small box of thin sticks and handed them to the blue-eyed man. Shaten took one and scratching it against the grater on the box, the match burst into flame and Michael held it against the end of the paper and watched it burn. He wanted to get rid of everything, just burn what he had written.

The paper burned beautifully, something you could watch forever....

      "Are you finished, Mike?" William asked again, seeing a certain lightness on his son's face. Then Afton shifted his gaze to the window and to an incomprehensible phenomenon, the rain stopped as that leaf burned.

He had forgiven him, now he was at peace.....

      With a pat beside him, Michael leapt up and sat down on the long warmed seat and nuzzled his nose into his father's side.       "Thanks, Father..." Michael thanked him, still not letting go of his embrace, clutching his father's shirt tightly, in places soaked with his tears.