Storms in the Heart

© 2000 by Sofía 'Toffee' Francisco

This page was last modified: 2000/09/18

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"You know...when it rains like this," the boy paused thoughtfully, hearing the violent patter of water over the roof of the small house. "It reminds me of...something, but I never know what."

A sudden flash of white light made him blink, and then smile sadly at his companion's silent look. Cold drops hit the shuddering window as the low, ominous rumble of thunder echoed among the hills. The fire crackled intermittently, orange flames dancing in a slow rhythm as occasionally a gust of wind would seep in from under the door.

"Maybe it just reminds you of when you were smaller." Indigo eyes, fixed on the swaying flames, narrowed as if disturbed by a sudden memory, or a thought brought back by the storm.

"I don't think that is quite it," silence came then, as thunder broke through their conversation with a roar that shook the walls of the house. "There isn't much to remember from my childhood."

"Maybe its something worth remembering, but you forgot, and the storm brings it back." Gabriel twirled a small lock of blue hair in his fingers, his eyes still fixed on the hearth.

"I don't know... what do you remember when it's stormy?" The other boy smiled, his gaze lighting up a bit at the possibility of getting some answers. Gabriel was so closed up, after all...

"Nothing. It's just water," the faint French accent still tinged his words, giving him an exotic lilt that often made Milo wonder if it was not intentional.

"You are so unromantic!" This time Gabriel did look up, his guarded expression becoming one of worry as Milo's comment registered.

"So, you find storms like this romantic?" Such a hard shine in those eyes, for one so young and beautiful.

Milo sighed at his friend's almost instinctive retaliation and shook his head.

"No... just... - they just remind me of something."

Gabriel got up then and checked the locks on the windows; a move made out of nervousness or simple responsibility, Milo didn't know. He never knew; Gabriel was unreadable. But there was something in him tonight, as the skies fell down upon them and lightning nearly split the earth with it's primal force... he looked almost vulnerable. Milo clamped down on his own desire to hug his friend, not wanting to complicate things tonight, when they could just rest and talk.

"But you," Milo pressed on, smiling softly, "don't think they are even slightly appealing?"

"What, storms?" Gabriel blinked, sitting back down near the fire.

"Yes. Don't you feel anything when the weather is like this?"

"No" But that was a lie. Gabriel was a closed book, but he had never been good at lying, the strange tinge in his deep blue eyes always gave him away.


"Does it make a difference if I feel something or not? In the end it is just a storm, and the past is just the past, nothing else." Such cold words. Milo shook his head and curled up nearer to his friend, smiling vaguely as yet another flash illuminated the room for a few seconds. Silence fell again, and Milo closed his eyes sighing, leaning his head on Gabriel's warm shoulder. The boy tensed, and for a moment Milo though he would throw him off, but then Gabriel relaxed and leaned his head on Milo's, almost lazily.

"But the past makes us what we are," Milo could not help saying that last phrase. Gabriel said nothing for a long while, until his companion feared he might have fallen asleep; but he spoke up again.

"And what is that, Milo?"

The boy shivered and pulled away at the question, hurt by the pained tone in his friend's voice. What did it make them? There was no answer he could give.

Gabriel did not ask again.

* * *

"The storms in you heart
lulled by memories of joy,
shine still in you eyes."

"What are you doing?"

Slim arms curled around his shoulders, as he felt a warm mouth move in a teasing fashion over his exposed neck. Blood smiled and reached behind himself to stroke his lover's silky white hair, feeling it slide between his fingers like threads of smooth silver.

"What does it look like?" Pale grey eyes peered over his shoulder to stare at the piece of paper he had been scribbling on a few minutes earlier. Until Ganymede had decided it was time to be playful. Strange. Blood had known the tall saint for years, and it was rare for him to act so... humanely.

Rare were the times when Ganymede let go if his cold facade and let anyone see what lurked behind the steely orbs of his eyes. Yet, stormy days seemed to put him an almost light mood. Playful and happy, enough for him to forget whatever hurt him so, and allow himself to enjoy a few moments of indulgence.

It was one of those rare times when Blood could almost swear Ganymede acted like he was in love with him.

A stupid thought, of course. He did not really recall when, exactly, he and Ganymede had started this, or who had started it. But it had always been blatantly clear to both of them that is was just another measure of their friendship, and nothing deeper. Or so Blood thought. Until those times, like now, when Ganymede's kisses would turn soft and sweet, and his eyes... would grow softer.

Like Morgana's...long ago.

"It looks like one of you poems," the dark skinned man ran his fingers through his lover's satiny scarlet hair, smiling vaguely.

"Do you like it?" Such a question was strange, too. Ganymede never asked Blood if he liked his drawings, and as a rule Blood never questioned Ganymede about his poetry. Neither knew why... perhaps there was too much of their past implicit in their art, and places in their hearts it was better to just leave alone.

"It's interesting.... very you." The soft arms released him, and Blood found himself wishing they had not.

"Is it?... well, I was thinking of your pupil actually," he smiled, giving his lover a sly smile over his shoulder, but it vanished when he realised that the coldness had won over the pale haired man again.

The rain intensified then, dulling the pounding of his heart under the roar of water on the stone at the entrance of his temple.

"Gabriel... well, since you wrote something for him, Poet; how about writing something for me?" A cold look had slid over the previous one. Perhaps this haiku had been for Ganymede after all. Storms in his eyes... they had always been there, and would never quite leave. And such beautiful eyes.. like huge moons. Blood felt a strange sadness then, as he stared deep into the walled depths of his lover's eyes, and saw nothing there, just like there had been nothing to see in the smooth reflection of Morgana's mask. And he wondered, what had her eyes been like: cold? Sweet? Loving? Lonely? He did not know, all he had from her was the memories and questions she never answered before she left.

He never saw her face in the end.

A haiku for Ganymede? The thought invoked a heaviness in his chest, and a feeling of loneliness. There was such deep pain in the fair haired man, and even though he never spoke of it Blood knew it was a weight too big for him. Yet there was nothing he could do, part of the unspoken agreement had included not meddling in each other's lives. As if Ganymede had wanted to hide something from him... the origin of his pain. Wouldn't a poem be a violation of this silent treaty? Why would Ganymede - after all these years - want something like that? It made no sense! But....

"Sure... but I will choose when to give it to you."

It would be Ganymede's birthday soon, that would be a good time. Surely.

Blood smiled and slid out of the chair leading his stony eyed lover to the bed.

"Is there nothing else on your mind these days..?"

Blood huffed and bit at the other's ear. "Not when you distract me."

* * *

"Do you think... maybe everyone remembers something when it storms...? Maybe it's just the feeling of nostalgia that makes us think that there was something." Milo faced the dying flames, a sad look on his fine featured face. Gabriel raised a brow and leaned forward to warm his hands.

"Maybe you just think too much."

Milo skid back a bit so he was behind his friend and started braiding the long indigo strands of hair, nimble fingers playing with each lock, smoothing and straightening almost mechanically. It was practically automatic by now, but he loved doing it. This was the closest Gabriel would allow, and so he enjoyed it as much as he could, being gentle and careful.

Dark blue eyes slid shut, and a sigh escaped the boy's lips. Milo only smiled.

"You like having you hair touched."

It was more a statement than anything else, and it surprised him that he had dared utter such a thing aloud, knowing that it gave Gabriel the perfect excuse to bolt up and leave. But he did not.


I love him... Milo realised, having known it in his heart all along. Yes as much as he understood this was true, he was also sure of the impossibility of his desire. Gabriel would never feel like that for him, nor would he like having Milo look at him that way. But...

Gabriel twisted his neck to look at him, and smiled shortly. A small, nearly imperceptible smile that jarred him to the very core of his soul. "If you tell anyone I will kill you."

Milo laughed. "I promise not to; really."

The both laughed then, while the storm outside raged on with unforgiving force. Gabriel leaned back then, his back against Milo's chest. Milo knew for a fact that Gabriel was anything BUT physical in his affections, small as they were, and would delight when such brief moments of contact were allowed.

"Maybe, it reminds you of tomorrow."

"Eh?" Milo blinked, caught by surprise. "Tomorrow?"

"Hm.." Gabriel acquiesced, "and the storms yet to come."

No one knew for sure. Milo smiled and rested his chin upon his friend's head, staring deep into the glowing coals with a lost expression on his face. A crack of lighting came, then the roll of thunder, and finally silence. The storm had ended.

The End

Author's Endnote:

Toffee speaks: eer.... there was a thunderstorm here when I wrote this, and it put me in a weird mood. *sweatdrop* I'm not sure this even counts as a fanfic! ^_^;

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