Fan Fiction ❯ Rainy Whispers ❯ Rainy Whispers ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Author's Notes: Hi all. I don't own Dragonlance or any characters associated with it. If this resembles another fanfiction or something in real life, it is purely coincidental. This takes place pre-Test, from Raistlin's point of view. Brief overview of the events leading up to this: Raistlin-sama saw Sturm in an awkward situation, got angry and hurt, and took off. Sturm followed. Yet again, I'm sorry if the charactes go OOC. I just love this paring too much to really care, though I do try.

WARNING: This is shonen-ai. Boy's love. If that's not your cup of sake, go away. Otherwise, enjoy. Also, it's kinda sweet, gooey sticky towards the end.

So cold... it's so cold... why is it so cold? Why can't I stop shivering? Oh, but it's so cold! What happened to make it so?

"Raistlin?"

I don't respond, though I know that voice as well as my own. I don't open my eyes, only just now realizing that they are closed. Yet, against my will, I realize that I am shivering terribly. And that I'm wet, soaked to the bone.

Your hand brushes against my forehead, and I feel the tremble of worry in it. Why won't you just leave me alone to freeze... or better yet, find some way to keep me from freezing to death! For all of your supposed caring, he is such a fool....

I let my eyes crack open, gaze around at a blurred world that is obviously the inside of a cave. Some part of my mind registers the sounds of a downpour of rain, the occasional slash of lightening and tear of thunder.

You are leaning over me, concern on your face. Water is dripping off of you, and that which stains your cheeks almost seems as if it might be tears... how perposterous. Something truly awful must have happened for me to be so sympathetic to you, you perverted want-to-be knight.

Stupid knight, my mind whispers weakly. The concern in your eyes is melting the anger and pain in my heart. Damn you!

"What... what happened?" I finally manage to ask, my voice little more than a raspy croak. How undignified. "You.. uh... you don't remember?" you ask, the worry and concern seeming to become stronger with each passing moment. I glare at you (at least, I hope that it comes out as a glare and not something else). "I wouldn't ask if I remembered," I snap back coldly. You swallow, and nod. "You were running... and you slipped. You fell into the river, and your head hit a rock.... I managed to get you out, but now it's storming, and I didn't want to get you any wetter." Your face is guilt-striken. Well, at least now I have a reason for my foggy vision and aching head. And freezing to death.

Couldn't forget that last bit.

Another shiver, worse than the others, wracked my body. Damn it! I didn't want to seem like I needed this bastard! "Help me up," I snarl at you, anger a good defense to hide behind. You wordlessly support my shoulders as I sit up. Noble idiot that you are probably thinks you deserve any anger you receive.

I think, for once, you're right.

But then again, with actual physical contact that is more than a brush, I'm having a hard time making sure I remember that. My head is throbbing so that it is almost impossible.

When your arm doesn't move, my body gratefully sags against yours. Oh, curses! I didn't tell it could do that! My mind is screaming up a storm, making my head hurt more. One of my hands reaches up of its own accord and idly grips your shirt. What is wrong?! Why can't I control my body? Why are you the only one who does this to me?!

"Raistlin?" You're startled. No wonder. I'm supposed to be angry at you, not cuddling up to you! But you are so warm, oh so warm, and I feel so bitterly cold....

My eyes droop closed, my face burying into your chest, breathing in your scent. I feel you shift slightly, and I give a groan of protest. It is simply your other arm you have shifted to move, though. Tentavily, I feel you stoke my hair. My body actually listens to my vehement commands for a second, tensing slightly at the touch. But you won't be discouraged now, not with the way I'm practically in your lap.

Your arms curl protectively around me, you put your face in my wet hair. "I'm sorry, Raistlin... I'm so sorry," you whisper, so soft that I almost do not hear it. Sorry? Do you honestly think that can make up for the pain you have caused me? Do you really think that sorry would solve anything? I certainly hope you have more sense than that.

But the bitter words can't come to my lips. I feel so bloody tired, so cold, and the warmth of your body is almost scorching, but it's still warmth. I start to shiver again (why won't those blasted things stop??), and you wrap your arms more tightly around me. My stiff muscles scream, and I let out a low, pained moan. Why is it so hard to just speak? It's as if I can't, not now. You freeze, then loosen your grip again.

"Raistlin." My name on your lips says so much, so much more than anyone else. I can hear the worry in your voice, the pain, the apology you have yet to speak. You will, again. And again. You will beg for forgiveness, and I won't let you know that I forgave you the moment you saw me.

I shiver again, convulsively trying to burrow deeper into your embrace. Why can't that heat you possess seep into my body? I don't care about apologies anymore, or about extracting punishment from you. I just want to be warm.

"Raistlin, I swear it wasn't what you thought. I'm so sorry... sorry I could not explain, sorry as to how it looked," you start. Just shut up, I don't care! Why can't you see that? You're stupid apologies mean nothing, not now.

Bitterly, you continue. "Please, Raistlin, I swear it. I'm sorry. I... you... you are... I... I love you, Raistlin," you finally whisper softly.

The words stike to my core, and suddenly, my body is once again in my control. I stiffen at the words, jerk backwards, out of your grip. Your face is one of surprise, but why wouldn't it be? I manage to get my back to the cave wall. "Raistlin," you whisper. Stop saying my name! I don't want to hear you say it! When you say it, it has meaning, it can convince me that you really are sorry, that you mean everything you tell me! Stop it!

You draw closer to me, and I try to pull back, but I've put myself into a corner, haven't I? "I'm not lying," you whisper, afraid to scare me off. Do I really look so pitiful to you, right now? "I can't lie. You know that, you've always known that. I love you, Raistlin." The words are more sure, more firm this time, louder.

I grasp wildly ahold of an emotion, any emotion to build defenses against those words. "No, you don't! No, you don't!! You don't love me, how can you? No one does! You all are awful, you all say things about me, but you don't think I hear, of course not!" A wail escapes my throat, and I sink into sobs, clutching my head with my hands. The chill is there, it's still there, and how do I manage to think of it now?!

"That's not true... You know that's not true! Caramon loves you, he is devoted to you! I love you! How can you say such things?" Your voice holds some reproach, but no anger. Why won't you just get angry already?! It's so much easier when you're angry, too! Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm choking on my sobs. Your hands gently grasp my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face. I bow my head, let my auburn hair fall across my face, trying to regain control, but it just hurts so much....

Tenderly, one of your hands lifts my chin up, forcing me to look into those beautiful eyes of yours. The other hand touches my cheek, strokes it, rubbing away tears with your thumb. "Hush." I want to close my eyes, but your are drawing me into their depths, and I can see the warm fires there, fires I so want in my own body. "I won't let them talk about you again. Ever again." My soul trembles, my body trembles at your words. The hand holding my chin slips down to my throat, your large hands more gentle than butterfly kisses in spring.

You continue to talk to me, your voice soothing. "I won't let them hurt you. You're so beautiful, did you know that? Why don't they see it? You're so beautiful... yet you're so fragile, too. Oh, I won't let them hurt you! I don't want you to break, I don't want to lose you." I'm still crying. Oh, how badly I want to believe you, trust you! How I long for your arms to wrap around me again, long for you to whisper again, all of it. You smile at me, and my heart feels ready to break.

Your hands slip away, and you sit back and just look at me, a soft, sad smile on your face. I feel so ruined under that gaze, so ugly. How could I have wanted you to hurt for hurting me? So noble, so dreadfully noble, and yet it is the very trait that is making me feel so guilty that I could die. I tremble, but not from the cold this time. You do that to me, though how I don't know.

I don't understand! Why can't I understand? Everything can be learned, can be figured out, but I can't understand or figure out the emotions you stir within me. Why not? What power is it you possess over me?

It doesn't matter. I want you to touch me again, to embrace me. Then, I don't feel quite so ugly in your gaze. And, of course, as I give in and sob into your shoulder, your arms are again around me, and some small warmth tries to flicker inside of my cold body. "Hush, Raistlin," you whisper into my ear, lips brushing it. I shudder at it. "Get some rest. You can sleep in my arms, if you'd like."

My sobs eventually fade away, and I can feel your arms give a gentle squeeze. Yes... I'll be safe, I'll be fine. So long as... so long as I'm in your arms....

Safe inside of your arms.....

--Nyght Silverrose