The Storm
By: Zellie
At ten o'clock in the morning, the sky was so dark it felt like night. Rain was pouring so hard there was no way to tell what was outside the windows. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder rolled almost quietly. It was the type of day that begged to be spent in bed; cozy, safe and calm. As the thunder in the distance came closer, Makoto woke up. She sighed and turned, staring out the window. Beside her, Nephrite was still sleeping, content. She watched him and smiled. If it was even possible, the rain began to torrent even more, and Makoto got up to watch it. Stretching as she walked to the window, she stared out into the unsettling grey color of the world outside. The glass of the window was cool as she leaned against it. In the bed, Nephrite shifted.
"Hey there, pretty lady," he said groggily. Makoto turned around and smiled at him.
"Morning," she said as she crossed the floor and flopped back down on the bed. Nephrite smiled and rolled over on to his back. He reached down and grasped Makoto's arms then pulled her up to his chest. He squeezed her shoulders and kissed her forehead.
"I thought I was supposed to wake up next to you every morning," he chided. Makoto pouted, playfully.
"I thought you were supposed to keep me there," she chided back. He laughed; the sound rich and deep. Makoto crossed her arms across his chest and rested her head on her hands, watching his face. Nephrite stopped laughing and looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. They were quiet, then, for a few long moments, until Makoto's face fell and she sighed. "Of course, we only have very few mornings to ourselves."
"They're the only thing worth living for." He stared into her eyes, emerald and sparkling like jewels. In fact, he thought, any spare moment he had with her was the only thing worth living for.
"You're my only thing worth living for," she said softly. He leaned down and kissed her, his hand on her chin, pulling her in. Her lips were soft, and tasted like vanilla.
"Well, now that that's settled…" he said after the kiss was broken. Makoto giggled and pulled away from him. She sat at the edge of the bed and pulled her hair up off her neck. Nephrite watched her movements, noticing the strong muscles of her back, and the curve of her hips under the night gown. For a moment, he felt his breath catch in his throat. There was no doubt that he was lucky to have her. To still have her after all this time. Makoto stood up and made her side of the bed.
"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked. Nephrite shook his head and grinned; the smile spread slowly across his face. Makoto turned around to see his grin and responded with one of his own.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. Makoto put her hands on her hips and frowned. She tapped her foot impatiently. Nephrite leaned back in the bed and put his hands behind his head. "To be honest, I'm not really hungry for food."
Makoto arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?" She leaned over and set her hands on the edge of the bed. "What are you hungry for, then?"
"Do I really have to tell you?" With those words, Nephrite tackled and snagged Makoto around the waist and pulled her back into the bed. He kissed her deeply and passionately. She didn't fight back, but instead laughed and grabbed a pillow and whapped him over the head with it. He in turn started tickling her and she shrieked and squirmed under his touch. She tried unsuccessfully to hit him with the pillow again, but he had her pinned. He continued tickling her, and she laughed until she was out of breath. When Makoto got to the point where she couldn't breathe, Nephrite stopped tickling her and pulled her into his arms.
"Today is a day that is meant to be spent in bed," he said. He set his head on Makoto's stomach, and she started to run her hand through his hair. It was thick and coarse, but long and wavy. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. "Definitely in bed," he repeated.
The rain ran rivers down the window and the thunder cracked above them. Makoto could feel the static current traveling through the air as the lightning struck the ground outside. The hair on her arms bristled and she desperately tried to ignore the feeling. Storms always made her tense. The rain and thunder and lightning resonated and sung with the power running through her veins. As the storm raged outside, Nephrite was slowly falling back asleep. For him, the patter of the rain drops was soothing; the rumble of the thunder a sort of lullaby.
Makoto watched him as he fell asleep again. Mornings like this were certainly few and far between. The storm was quieting, but the rain continued to fall. As Nephrite slept, Makoto listened to the sound of the rain, thinking of different rhythms in her mind. The rain fell on. Makoto closed her eyes and let the sound create images in her mind. First there were flowers, then a meadow. The meadow was filled with daisies and butter cups. The sky was turning from a pale blue into a dull grey as clouds covered the sky. She started to dream, or maybe it was some hazy memory of a life forgotten.
She was running through the meadow, the flowers bending in the wind. The palace was just a little way away. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. She was being chased, but it was a game. With the storm coming in and the rain starting to fall around them, Makoto put on an extra burst of speed. The drops fell fat and heavy on her face. Her dress was starting to cling to her ankles as it got wet. He was catching up. Makoto turned to look at him, flashed him a bright smile then ran under the covered garden trellis. As soon as they were both under the trellis, the sky opened up, and poured rain down all around them. Makoto laughed and stumbled over to the bench and sat down. She was soaked, from head to toe. Nephrite, looking boyish and exuberant sat down next to her. He laughed as well. They kissed, deeply.
It was now noon. The storm outside had completely subsided. Even the dismal color of the sky had brightened into a blue the color of a blue topaz. But still they slept, twisted around each other, at peace. It was indeed a day meant to be spent in bed.