• He wandered through the rain, soaking him to the bone. His thigh-length jet-black hair, never been cut from the day he was born, stuck to him like a cloak, and his baggy clothes hung loosely from his lithe frame. What did it matter? It's not like anyone cared what happened to him.

    The streets were empty and abandoned. Good thing, too. No one sane would be out in this storm. Then again, no one ever called Droiture LeReve "sane".

    Giant, noise-canceling headphones covered his ears, blasting violent and angry lyrics directly into his brain, loud enough to drown out the thunder crashing overhead.

    Hands shoved in his pockets and hunched over to hide his impressive 6'7" height, Droiture turned a corner and kept walking. The rain was coming down in such thick sheets it was hard to see in front of him. With his right eye covered as it always was, Droiture continued walking aimlessly through the abandoned metropolis.

    He finally looked up from the ground and saw where his heart had been leading him all along. He sat upon the old, ancient, rusty swing set and was mildly surprised that his impossibly thin body still fit in the seat. Smirking a little, he swung back and forth, his legs scraping the ground. His smirk turned into a full-on laugh, and in his mind's eye, he saw a flash of orange and green next to him, laughing as well.

    Suddenly his legs stopped kicking and his laughter turned to desperate, stifled sobs. He clutched at the rusting chains helplessly, his body trembling and shaking with what wasn't the cold rain. Five years he'd wasted wandering around in turmoil, but what else was there? She was gone. She'd never come back. His own mistakes had led to her death and there was nothing he could ever do about that.

    He stood from his seat and looked to the sky, suddenly crying out, "What is you want from me? Why are you making me remember?!"

    It wasn't that he wanted to forget. It's that he didn't want to remember. They were two different things, really, when viewed with an ice-cold eye.

    He reached into his front vest pocket and pulled out a dull golden object. It was a hair clip, or what was left of one. The glitter had faded, revealing the dull, tarnished metal underneath.

    "Is this what you want, Annabella? Can I finally sleep?" He threw the clip to the ground desperately, tears rolling down his pale face, turning blue from cold.

    The rain slowly stopped, and Droiture fell to his knees in the mud. "I kept it all these long five years.... I never wanted to forget.... but you wanted me to, didn't you? You didn't want me to remember the pain. That's why you haunted me. Isn't that right?"

    It's okay, Brother. Don't you see? You can be happy now.

    "I loved you and I lost you. I can never be happy again."

    Yes, you can. You just have to let go of the past.

    Droiture's massive emerald eyes slid shut and his hand instinctively flew up to his hair, slicking it back. As his eyes opened again, his blind right eye, burned and forever scarred, was revealed to the light for the first time since the accident, five long years ago. He looked at the sky and saw a brilliant double-rainbow there.

    "I guess one rainbow wasn't enough, was it, Annabella? No, your carriage to Heaven had to have room for you to grow." He commented quietly, a warm smile appearing on his blue-tinted lips.

    Droiture got up from the muddy ground and left the little park, a pair of jade eyes watching him from Heaven. He looked up at the sky. "But, are you sure I'll be all right without you?"

    Not a chance. But remember I'll always be here for when you finally just give up.

    "You know, Sister, for a nine-year-old, you've got a real smart mouth."

    Droiture headed for the outskirts of the city, leaving his childhood home behind, as well as his memories. He'd build new memories in a new place, happy memories, so that when he was reunited with Annabella, he could look down at her beaming little cherubic face and say, "You were right."

    The End