The rain didn’t always smell good.
Animals living in the forest left their scent for months and now the downpour loosened those trails and sent it into the air.
Still, it held a familiarity that couldn’t be ignored. Warm rain would bring humidity and the thick feeling of being hugged by the air itself.
Lance could hear it, the rattling sound, not unlike a snare drum, of rain pouring down upon the roof and the trickle of runoff flowing through drainpipes around the house.
Rain was often a hindrance on the battlefield. Especially on alien planets, where what locals would call a light drizzle might have resembled falling liquid nitrogen or small smears of ice. During a tense fight the tang of blood in his mouth and stinging sweat in his eyes might have made the difference between a hard-won victory or near death. It slowed rescues and hindered communication in the most critical moments.
Still, in a secluded house far in the woods where a battle was unlikely, rain could become a simple joy again. Like all of nature’s many gifts, it was only as destructive as it was gentle. This music was more valuable than all of the music that Lance had managed to bring into space.
He wouldn’t be on this planet for long. The mission had been pitched as a slow, silent stay on a planet with very few residents. The few aliens living here treated the abundance fossil fuels within the soil as a hindrance to farming practices, and Voltron only needed a single paladin to make quick work of asking residents to donate the resource to the war effort instead of ejecting excess material into space.
In all honesty, Lance only learned this information through a second briefing that Coran had graciously given him. Lance had been drafting the list of supplies he would need from around the castle for that night’s spa sleepover with Hunk as Allura walked around a hologram of Uevis. Amid her droning speech about social norms and the likelihood of attack on this mostly isolated world, a word had broken through his stupor.
“…not to get your lion’s claws stuck… heavy rains of non-hazardous water in the area… creates fertile land for planetary residents…”
The prospect of rain that wouldn’t stab him or melt all of his skin off had briefly shocked Lance’s mouth into a still gape, long enough that Allura had moved on to the next bit of monotonous detail about this planet that they would only visit once. The second his words caught up with his brain, he had loudly interjected, claiming the mission as his.
The room was surpassed by his eagerness, Keith made some snide remark about Lance’s outburst (‘he dissociated so hard he thinks he’s signing up for a party…’), but all Lance could think about were a nights on a beach far, far away, with his legs slowly sinking into the dampening sand he was sitting in. And water hitting his already wet face from a swim in dark saltwater, and wind tousling his salt-stiff curls. The sound of wide palm tree leaves waving as the tall, spindly trunks bent in an effort to graze the ground.
Nothing would come close to matching his Earth, his home and the beach on his island in the middle of a sparkling sea, but this would be enough.
Now in this dark cabin, alone and far from even the aliens living on the planet, the rain was his only companion. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk a walk into the pitch-black woods just to get a few drops of rain on his skin. He just sat and listened.
With this reminder of home, his homesickness grew worse even as he grew untouchable to the worries thrust upon him by the war.
He could actually hold a train of thought despite his mind’s constant thunder. His troubles seemed almost inconsequential in this deluge.
Each passing thought slowed to match a drop of rain.
He missed home so much that it ached deep and sharp in his chest, but falling water soothed the pain.
He would never find his place as a truly valuable member of his team, but he was the only one granted this beautiful moment of peace and respite from an unnaturally still castle. This memory would always be his only.
He’d return to the castle far too soon, but for now he was surrounded by the pleasing sound of motion and proof that life was still moving all around him.
None of his ‘loves’ or boldly proclaimed conquests would ever see him as adequate enough to spend time reciprocating his freely given affections. Rain, however, did not discriminate, and would continue even in spite of his lack of restraint.
Even as he was alone, a lonely astronaut forced far from his beloved home, it was the small comforts that mattered.
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