#raindrop fic

...

“What is that?”

A pause.

And then, “A bouquet.”

“I can see that, but why does it look like that?” Mountain peered over Dewdrop’s shoulder. He really was like a mountain this way, completely shadowing over the others’ body. Once upon a time it would have sent a chill down Dewdrop’s spine, but the gentle giant posed a threat no longer.

Dewdrop did not turn to look at him, just continued, albeit more stiffly, picking flowers from various bins and buckets to add to the arrangement he had in his other hand, “It’s for SaleDay.”

“It doesn't look like any of the others we had planned.”

“I'm getting creative.”

“Dew.”

Dewdrop sighed and finally turned to his business partner (and best friend), “Fine. You caught me. I'm making an arrangement for the neighbors because I'm stupid and I'm gay. Happy?”

Mountain laughed, his amused laugh that was more of a large exhale out of his nose, and sat down on the bucket next to Dewdrop, beginning to set up another bouquet - one actually matching the spring design they had decided on weeks ago.

“By neighbors, I don't think you mean Mr. Peters next door?” He asked, playfully nudging Dewdrop in the side as he worked.

Dewdrop couldn’t help but smile, “It’s the stupid guy from the stupid tattoo parlor.”

...

And he was off across the street. Normal, non-SaleDay, Wednesdays were not busy, thankfully, but there were some tourists and locals perusing the streets, enjoying the warm, spring sun. Rain had to gently squeeze through a couple that was dawdling in front of the flower shop doors, barely noticing him through their passionate conversation. Once inside, he set his mind on finding one particular florist, with the long blonde hair, and the striking eyes and-

There he was. Dewdrop. Standing towards the back of the shop where the large ferns and fronds were. Rain’s breath caught in his throat.

It might have just been the sun. The way the morning light streamed through the window, illuminating Dewdrop’s warm face, brightening his silver and orange eyes, glowing on his blonde hair that was thrown up into a ponytail, exposing his slender neck and cutely pointed ears, glinting off all of his jewelry - he was captivating.

You're just horny, Rain tried to remind himself, but his heart beat was something else. 

“Dewdrop!” He called out as he walked across the store, only recognizing at his approach that he had interrupted a conversation. Dewdrop turned quickly when he heard his name, and Rain couldn’t help but notice how his face lit up, a smile taking its place on his lips. The man he had been talking to did not seem quite as thrilled. Oops. 

...

Dewdrop palms grew moist despite the chill, and he quickly rose to his knees, wiping his hands on his thighs, “Rain, I… wanted to talk to you.”

“I don't really want to talk to you right now.” 

Dewdrop blinked, flinching like a smack to the face. Had he ever heard Rain utter that sentence before? Had Rain ever turned him away? 

Dewdrop’s body thrummed with the urge to run, legs like springs, itching to jump up and turn around. 

Rain waited for you.

He clenched his fist at his side, “Please, I just-”

“Not now, Dew.” Rain cut. His pose tensed further, shoulders to his ears. 

“I need to tell you-”

“I don't want to hear it. Please, go inside.” Rain’s voice stung, though it remained level. Dewdrop had always admired that, his quiet anger, “I want to be alone.” 

But Rain had the habit of isolating. Where Dewdrop bit, and made his anger another’s problem, Rain only punished himself. The sour scent was tinted with heavy salt, like tears on your tongue. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Dewdrop replied quietly, voice almost a whisper, “If you don't want to talk right now, I respect that, but I'm here.”

A quiet chuckle reached his ears, and Dewdrop’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“ Now you're here,” Rain said, smiling around the words, though the tone told Dewdrop it was anything but a happy one, “Why does it always take you so long?”

...

Once it was shut, Dewdrop finally looked at Rain fully. Took in the thin white t-shirt that flowed down his torso, the mid-thigh length, blue swim shorts over his toned legs. Worse, his hair was tied up in a cute, short ponytail at the base of his skull, his bangs pulled to the side with two teal colored hair clips that Dewdrop had hand painted for him. He had told Rain that they matched his eyes.

Man, he really has been in love with Rain this whole time.

The realization washed over him heavily. Like he was being covered in a warm blanket, a blanket decorated with cartoon sharks, and it was comforting in a way that made him yearn at the same time. The idea that loving Rain was a constant, and loving Rain was a part of him now, and it was terrifying to think he might never be able to unravel himself from it.

"You don’t have to stay," Dewdrop said quietly, any vitriol left in him melting away.

"I know," Rain replied, and he smiled at Dewdrop softly, sweetly, "I wanted to, I feel like we haven't hung out enough."

Dewdrop couldn’t help but smile, his tail swinging behind him before he could stop it. Rain was choosing to spend his time with him, and suddenly the joint felt like less of a weight and more of an opportunity.

Dewdrop has a thought - one that crosses his mind with frustrating recurrence. He tries not to entertain it, tries not to let it sink in too deep, or let the words build too heavy, but he feels it. It kicks at the back of his mind like Mountain’s foot on the drum pedal when he bites out harsh words at Cumulus who just wanted to make sure he was okay. It twists its way into his chest, thick and suffocating, when Rain’s arm is draped over his waist in the silence of his room, hot puffs of even air fanning across his cheeks. The thought pounds at his stomach like Aether’s fists on his door, begging Dew to let him in, please let me in. The thought whispers it too, lacking the plead in Aether’s voice, it demands Let Me In. 

And Dewdrop fights it. He shoves it back with a snap of quick wit when Swiss suggests he might need something soft to hold when he fucks him hard and deep, offering Dewdrop’s hand a gentle squeeze where they’re intertwined against the sheets. It punches the desire out of his gut and makes his lip curl up in disgust just before telling Swiss there’s something else you can squeeze instead. That quiets the voice, the thought, for a moment when Swiss’ large, warm hand rests against his throat. Though it pipes up again when he can feel his own pulse on the multi-ghoul’s finger tips, reminding him that his life rests in the mercy of Swiss’ careful compress. Let me in.

He ignores it again. He passes it back and forth on his knees and ankles like a hacky-sack when it threatens him. He forces his eyes open wider, willing his mind to zero back in on Aurora’s ramblings while she paints his nails. She paints them black without asking, because she knows him a bit too well, settling a bit too comfortably into Dew’s life considering how long she’d been on earth. His hand twitches in her soft grasp, itching to rip away and cut like a knife. So, he does. But it’s less of a knife and more of a worn out wooden spoon, frayed around the edges, as an excuse leaves his lips. He tries to smile through the ache in his chest when she gives him a concerned frown, and he despises the way his eyes sting as he forces out, I’m okay, just tired , before patting her head as he scoots off the stool to leave. He feels her eyes on the back of his head as he walks away. LET ME IN , the voice screams when he twists his face and refuses to cry.

And then when he’s there in his own room - not Rain’s where he fell asleep tangled up most nights, not Mountain’s soft, plush nest that never failed to make him drowsy, or Phantom’s exciting chamber filled with trinkets to occupy his mind - his room, it could sneak up on him. His room was clean, partially from his need for space to concentrate, not allowing clutter to fill his mind or his surroundings, and another in part because he really did not spend much time in it since the change. Scorch marks stained the furniture and the walls, black and smokey, that never seemed to go away no matter how he scrubbed at them (Copia offered to buy him paints to cover them, and to help him too, but Dewdrop had slammed the door shut on his Papa and curled up in the corner to stare at the marks instead). They were reminders now. Reminders of who he is, and who he will never be. He avoided his room until he couldn't anymore. Until the feelings welled up and he had nowhere else to hide. And that is where the voice would start to win.

You would have been easier to love if…

If you were soft.

If you were kind.

If you were quieter.

Calmer.

Brighter.

More thoughtful.

More giving.

If you were more and if you were less.

You would have been easier to love as a water ghoul.

The words spill over and down Dewdrop’s cheeks, wracking his body with sobs when he curls up with his back against the wall and his knees pulled to his chest. 

You do not deserve them . His pack. He does not deserve them after what he did. 

Once he was all sparkling blue skin and dark sleek hair, perky and cute and all of the things that the others cherished and desired. He still had his spark, his quick tongue, but he had smiled more - let his lovers hold him and mold him until he fit right into their mouths and bodies. He laughed loud and often, wearing his emotions like bold flowering tattoos on his skin, never letting them doubt for one moment that he loved them all. He kissed Mountain’s cheek in the morning before they sank into their routine of making breakfast together, humming as they knocked into each other with quiet giggles, and letting his stomach swoop when the earth ghoul hugged him close to his body against the counter. Now, their mornings were quieter. It was still always the two of them up before the others, dipping into a silent rhythm of making coffee and pancakes. Mountain tried humming, tried nudging at Dew with his feet, tossing him soft, sympathetic smiles that made bile rise in Dew’s throat. He watched that smile fall, fall, and fall again until Mountain did not try anymore. A sick part of Dew reveled in it, that he had shaken off the softness, like he had proved that he was not as good as Mountain claimed he was. Another smaller, muffled part of him was begging him to give in, to let Mountain wash his gentle hands over his small waist and rock back and forth in the kitchen until the pancakes were burnt on the bottom and the coffee went cold. 

You do not deserve to give in , the voice reminded him. He was not their water-ghoul anymore. He was not their sweet, loving Dewdrop. He didn’t even deserve the name, Dewdrop. 

Another sob coursed through his frame, his whole body shaking with it until it burst from his mouth all strangled and wet. He felt stupid, he felt pathetic, by letting the voice speak to him and etch its way onto his skin. 

You are not soft enough.

You are not pretty enough.

You are not smart enough, or strong enough.

You are not good enough for them. 

It choked him, clamping down on his chest and throat like he was being crushed by the depth of the sea. He lifted his hands and dug into his hair, pulling at it to feel the sting where the fibers latched onto his scalp. The cries kept coming until he was gasping and he wished so badly that he was good enough for one of his mates, all of his mates, that he could reach out and ask them to hold him, soothe him , like a young kit until he could catch his breath and snuggle into their warmth. 

He imagined how they might kiss his forehead and wipe away his tears with the pads of their thumbs, and it ached . He let his mind reach out for the ache, let it burn through his chest and bubble up his throat to turn into more cries and whimpers that tumbled out and echoed off his stupid, burnt walls. He thought about how they might say his name. Like they used to. Soft and kind, Dewdrop. Water lily. Droplet. 

Dewdrop.

Dewdrop.

"Dewdrop."

"Dewdrop!"

Dew’s head shot up, heart pounding in his chest. He felt the color drain from his body, heat replaced by chill like he was a prey who had been caught. 

"Dew, please open the door." It was Rain. 

Dew couldn’t stop the next cry that left his lips, crying for his mate. His chest kept aching, his breaths getting faster. He wished he could stand and open the door but his body was frozen on the hardwood, clutching at his head and the space above his heart. 

"Baby, please." 

Too sweet, too soft, you do not deserve this.

When he did not respond again, he heard mumbling and the rustling of keys. His heart thumped heavily. A key slid into the lock with a sleek slide, Rain rushing out a quick warning that he was coming in before turning it all the way because he was ever the gentleman even like this. Even to Dewdrop. 

Dew turned his head when the door opened, trying to fold in on himself, wishing he could flip inside out so no one could see the blotchiness of his cheeks or the way his hands shook when he moved his hair to cover his face. 

"Let me go in first," Rain said to someone behind him before Dewdrop heard the door click shut once more and soft, bare footsteps followed by the drag of a tail padded over to where he sat. 

And then there were arms around him. 

And Dewdrop cried again, harder and louder if it were even possible. Rain’s arms were sturdy where they slowly turned Dew into his body, scooping him up until he was folded around the fire ghoul's shaking form. 

"It’s okay, baby." Rain said, using the petname he reserved only for Dewdrop and only in times like these. The voice laughed, poking at Dew with a hot iron, he wouldn't hold you like this if he had known you before. If he knew how much colder you are as a fire-ghoul, if he knew how much dimmer, and saltier, and weaker you are now. 

A soft hand pulled at his mind as it laid on his cheek. He hiccupped, hating the way he leaned into Rain's touch. He took in a shaky breath, eyes beginning to stare out into the expanse as the storming sea of emotions pulled him under, trying to drown him. It was peaceful, like acceptance. That he was in fact,

Weak.

Ugly.

Wrong.

"Where are you?" Rain said, his voice the softest, most pleading whisper. To Dewdrop, it felt like a hand grasping his where he reached up towards the surface, where the light shone through the water. It threatened to pull him out into the open air and subject him to the ache and the waves again. He wanted to thrash against it, tear his hand from Rain’s strong grip and keep sinking, but Rain was strong and Dew wanted to dive into his embrace.

Rain leaned his forehead against Dewdrop’s, their horns clacking together as he pressed firmly. His tail intertwined with Dew’s. Dew could feel his mate's distress and worry tugging at his heart, the beautiful and unfortunate part of being so tightly tied to one another. It wasn't pity Rain was feeling, It was empathy. And Dew didn't know what to do with it when it washed over him, but he knew he did not want Rain to be sad. Especially not for him, so he leaned into Rain, letting him hold him and mold him to his chest. He breathed in deep, familiar petrichor filling his senses, slowing his heart rate. He let that hand pull him up, up, up until he breached the surface.

He took another deep breath that shuddered through his small body. Rain ran his other hand that was not on his face over his spine in slow sweeping motions. A few remaining tears trickled over his hot cheeks, and this time Rain’s thumb was there to catch them. Dew leaned into him further. The sea was calm, the voice was quieter. 

“What happened?” Rain asked, leaning back enough to see Dew’s face, but never letting him go. 

Dewdrop struggled to raise his head, keeping his eyes fixated on Rain’s chest where one of his hands had clutched and dug in. The shirt was torn from his claws, and he had to resist another deprecating thought.

He hiccupped around his next breath of air, trying to get the words out, but they were lodged in his throat. The voice, while quieter, still called him an attention seeker, a waste of space, undeserving of Rain’s warm gaze. 

“I-” His voice was crackly and raw. Rain asked if he needed water and Dewdrop shook his head. He feared that if he didn’t let it out now, he might never have the strength again. “It’s hard,” he started. 

What’s hard? How do I explain this? How do I explain to you that sometimes when you look at me, when the others look at me like you love me, it feels like I’m dying.

“It’s hard to let you love me.” He said, quiet. Weak. “I don’t- I don’t deserve it.”

He waited for the sting. Something that would prove the voice and the thoughts right. Flashes of the anger haunted his memories, the stupid words he spat at Rain when he was first summoned, how he stormed out of every room the water ghoul entered, resisting his kindness at every turn and corner, and how Rain kept coming back no matter what - Dew could not handle that sort of love. He needed Rain to be mad at him too, to fight back, to finally say what he has been probably thinking all these years later; that Dew was and is too hard to love, and most certainly did not deserve it.

There was no sting though.

There was only Rain pulling Dew back into his chest, stronger and firmer than before. He tucked his head into the crook between Dew’s neck and shoulder, his breath whispering on his skin and making him shiver.

" You are everything to me." Rain said. He said it with power, with force, with a sort of roundness to it that had Dew pulling back and gently tilting Rain’s head back, finally looking at his face and finding his blue eyes glistening with tears. Shining with adoration. It brought wetness back to Dew’s on eyes, and he felt his lip quiver. 

"I love you, Dewdrop." Rain said, and again "You are everything. I know it's hard, I know. Let me do this- let us do this with you." 

Dew sniffled, "I don't know how."

"We will figure it out together. Oh," He brushed a strand of gold hair behind Dewdrop's ear, his lips upturned in a small smile, "You are pretty even when you cry, sweetheart." 

Dewdrop scoffed, but couldn't help his own smile. 

Rain’s hand rested on his cheek again, and this time Dew was unashamed in the way he soaked up his warmth, closing his eyes and kissing his palm.

"Will you let us in? Let us see you like this." Rain asked. Dew nodded into his hand, biting his lip. Rain pressed a lingering kiss to his head, his horns, his cheeks, to his nose and chin, and then to his lips. "Let us love you." 

It was warm and Dewdrop was dreaming. It was a good dream, one he didn't want to wake up from. Pleasant, warm, sensual - Rain as the main feature; his soft, cool hands and his hot mouth dancing across Dewdrop’s skin, his sweet scent thick in the air - he thought it wasn’t possible to smell in dreams, but it was a nice surprise, and even his skin tingled with Rain’s touches. 

There were birds outside, seagulls, and they should have been annoying, but Dewdrop felt too good to mind. A deep, full breath. The smell of perfectly intertwined campfire and salt, sweet and smoky, like a candle he could never get enough of. The dream kept playing as he breathed.

He really, really, did not want to wake up, but the world was pushing at him anyway.

Light was streaming in through the window, beckoning Dewdrop to open his eyes as it always did, but he pushed against it. Closed them tighter as he curled into the softness beside him. He’d never felt so… peaceful, like he was being held in complete safety, blankets pooled  at his waist, the sensation of the fabric tickling his bare legs.