Prompt: dancing in the rain
A thunderclap jerks Rosie from sleep. He shakes involuntarily for a moment, brain tripping over the sound that tells him to go find shelter. The Germans are bombing. He needs to get to shelter. But he's in shelter. In bed. Ken beside him, still snoring lightly.
Rosie sits up and looks towards the window. It's open to let in whatever breeze wants to slip by. It's only April, but it's already humid and hot in Arkansas during the day and not much better at night. He's still getting used to it.
Thunder shakes the house again, and Rosie starts counting under his breath. The lightning flashes four seconds later. Four miles, Rosie thinks.
There's a wet sound he's still learning, then again and again and again. Rain hitting the warm earth fast and hard. He gets out of bed and walks over to the window. He pops the screen and sets it on the floor, then pushes the window down. There's no wind yet, but there will be. The window makes a dull sound when it hits the frame.
"Robert?" Ken asks, and there's a shuffle on the bed.
"Storm," Rosie replies over his shoulder. "Just closing the window."
Ken makes an affirmative sound and gets out of bed. He always does, whether Rosie tells him to stay put or not. He comes up next to Rosie and squints out the window, looking at the sky. Rosie can just barely see it in the dark of their room, in the dark of this night with no streetlamps. He's still getting used to that, too.
"Ain't bad," Ken says, then yawns into his hand. "Just a cloudburst."
The thunder happens again, but it's a rumble, not a slamming cymbal. Rosie stares at the sky, waiting for the lightning. It flashes, but it doesn't drop down.
"Heat lightning," Rosie says.
"Yup," Ken agrees. He reaches for Rosie's hand and pulls. "Come on," he says.
They go down the hall and step on the porch, and Ken points towards the trees. "A little wind, but not too much," he says.
Rosie nods, memorizing the ways the trees move. Ken's been teaching him about the weather all spring. They're in tornado season, and Ken's made sure Rosie knows what to look for. If the trees are moving, they're safe.
"The thunder was louder before," Rosie says. "Woke me up."
"Storms do like to announce themselves," Ken says. "Even when they're really not much to look at."
Rosie looks around. The rain is still falling hard, and he can feel the cool mist of it against his skin. It'll take the heat out of the air, he realizes. They'll sleep easier once it passes.
Ken pulls Rosie close and curls his hand around the back of Rosie's neck. "Look at me," he says.
Rosie does. Heat lightning flashes again, no thunder to announce it. For a moment, he sees Ken's whole, wonderful face, lit up bright and beautiful. He thinks, as he does when the war sneaks up on him like it does sometimes, how he almost didn't get to have this. How close he came over and over, to disappearing into a wild, roaring noise like a never-ending thunderclap.
"Sing me something," Ken says. "Be here with me."
Rosie stares at him for a long moment, wishing he could thank Ken for the way he takes care of him. Knowing when to distract, when to teach, when to pull his attention from wherever he goes in his mind. He thinks he's luckier than he ever was in the war, to be here with Ken right now. To have Ken to hold onto.
Rosie tucks his hand at Ken's waist, and they sway together. The rain keeps falling hard and cool. Rosie murmurs the lyrics to 'Five More Minutes' as Ken turns them in a circle and hums along. The rain keeps falling.
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
areudirty
romaincrisis
