When I Return || Perrentes

Chapter 5: The Peace and the Panic

It was not the sun that woke Tony, but the rain.

It was almost refreshing. With one hand, careful not to dislodge Mike, Tony reached up and gently pushed the curtain back an inch or so - the rain fell in spots against the window, pattering, splattering, running down like tears. It felt good, he thought. He'd always loved the rain. Growing up in hot, sweaty, sticky San Diego, rain was such a rare occurrence he cherished the moments it happened. It always felt cleansing; as if the clouds saw the earth growing dirty and mucky, and sent down the rain to wash it away, to let it all start over. The rain woke him like a friend gently shaking his shoulder, and he didn't mind it. For once, he'd slept okay.

There he lay for a minute, curtain parted just a fraction, watching the grey morning sky and the cleansing rain as it darkened the sandstone path below. He watched the clouds drifting slowly, smothering the sky, silencing the sun although it still shone through the thick cotton, until he felt soft butterfly kisses at the nape of his neck, peppering down it in threes, and he smiled. "It's raining."

"Rain makes it smell good, doesn't it?" Mike muttered softly, his breath falling on Tony's neck, and he smiled.

"It smells clean."

They fell silent again for a moment. Tony did not move from his position; still, he held the curtains open. At home in Veil, the window was far from the bed and he would have to get out to part them; but here, in this room, the bed pressed up against the window that spanned the wall, the windowsill serving almost as a bedside table, Tony could reach out his hand almost as though he could touch the world.

And then he felt a pang in his chest, thinking of Veil.

"Don't you think it's like the sky is crying?" Mike asked quietly. His voice sounded small, uncertain, and that was enough to make Tony turn over and take his hand. Mike, he thought, always looked beautiful in the morning. He always got sleep dust in his eyes, at the corners, which he rubbed away in the most adorable manner, and his cheeks were always rosy and his eyes were always a little glazed from sleep. Today, he had all that, and Tony felt that string plucked in his heart that told him he loved him - but he also looked fretful, and Tony frowned.

"Crying? I've never seen it as such," he offered, stroking his thumb over the back of Mike's hand. "I always find it as though it's cleaning. The rain comes to wipe it all clean."

"That's nicer than crying," Mike half smiled, and Tony shuffled closer and placed a kiss on his nose, then his cheek, then his lips.

"How did you sleep?"

"Badly," Mike whispered.

"Really?"

"Mm. I think it's...being here. You know I love this house, I love Alex...but it's all incomplete. I woke up at like...must have been midnight, or something. And I was obviously half asleep, I think I was kind of half dreaming, so I suddenly thought, 'oh heck. I haven't seen Jack.' And I started to get out of bed, and then I woke up a bit and remembered. Then I couldn't sleep very well. You know what the night does, makes all your thoughts bigger. It was like a part of me was missing. It really hurt. I mean, it physically hurt. Here -" at that, he took Tony's hand in his and placed it over his chest He felt the warm skin, and beneath it his bones, and beneath them the strong thudding of his heart. Tony tutted, reaching up to place his hand on his neck.

"You should have woken me up."

"Nah," Mike dismissed, smiling softly. "You were sleeping deeply for the first time since all this kicked off. You needed the REM sleep more than me."

"Sounds like you're absorbing some of my nerd," Tony puzzled, and Mike chuckled, closing his eyes for a moment. In comfort, Tony kissed his forehead and stroked his hair back. "I know you miss him. And that's okay. Sometimes, I think a death is much worse for the people left behind on the outskirts. As if it's you with the unfinished business. I can't say I believe in life after death, or in ghosts...it's more like we become the ghosts. We represent everything that didn't have the chance to happen."