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Virgil always liked the rain. He saw beauty in the ugly weather that Patton himself avoided as often as he could. Patton was a more sunshine and rainbows kind of guy, but Virgil couldn’t live without the rain.
There was one day when Virgil had somehow managed to convince Patton to go outside with him during a storm. Patton had prepared himself, throwing on a thick sweater, a large raincoat, sweatpants, and rain-boots two sizes too big for him. He pretended to shoot Virgil an angry glare before they stepped out the door, but he couldn’t be mad at his friend. He could never be mad at Virgil.
Meanwhile Virgil wore nothing but a tee-shirt and skinny jeans. He didn’t even have on a hoodie or shoes, and Patton nearly screamed at him to cover up more when he shot outside but stopped as he watched his friend began to laugh under the freezing spray of water. A wonder struck Patton he never knew was possible as Virgil continued to run his hands through his wet hair, dancing around like a madman with the biggest smile that probably ever graced his face, giggling like he was having the time of his life.
Patton had never seen Virgil look so happy, in full honesty. He looked so carefree, so vulnerable, so energetic you would have thought the rain water had some kind of holy power in it that could change him into a different person. But he wasn’t a different person, he was still Virgil. Patton’s Virgil.
A loud rumble of thunder followed by a flash of lightning only made Virgil laugh louder, more victoriously, and in act of what Patton could only describe as pure, bewitched impulse, he jumped outside into the rain and out into the street with Virgil. His light brown hair was already thoroughly soaked, some strands sticking to his freckled forehead. He flicked the hood to his raincoat on as to not wet the lenses of his glasses and Virgil giggled as he saw him.
“Finally decided to join me I see,” Virgil teased, his trademark smirk returning to his face as a particularly large raindrop plopped on his nose.
Patton shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “What do you like about the rain so much, Virgil?”
Virgil took a deep breath. “I… I think it has something to do with the way it makes me feel…” He put a hand to his chest. “I feel free when I’m in the rain, like all my problems have been stripped away from me and I’m living in a world where I don’t have deal with anyone. I’m alone with the sky. I’m at home.”
Virgil snapped out of his daze and nodded at Patton. “It’s why I always wanted to bring you out here. If there was anyone who I wanted to share this with it’s you. So, heh,” he waved his arms around grandly but at the same time lazily, “here it is.”
Patton turned his head to look up at the dark clouds that once looked somber to him but now looked majestic. He was seeing what Virgil was seeing now. Elegance and true beauty in something society deemed to be anything but.
It happened so fast not even Patton saw it coming. One day everything was normal and the next he got a call from Virgil’s mother that he was dead. Not even by accident, but by suicide. A noose, a stool, and not even a letter of explanation.
Patton had never felt so numb and shaken with grief in his entire life. He felt a constant guilty weight in his chest telling him he should’ve done more to tell his best friend that there was more joy in life that could be found even when the sky wasn’t pouring. That he should have reassured him he was safe and loved. Patton should’ve told him how he was absolutely in love with him before he was forced to say goodbye.
Now every time it rained Patton would calmly step outside and into the street. He wouldn’t dance, he wouldn’t laugh. The magical world that once belonged to him and Virgil under the pounding drops was no longer there. The weather was as ugly and gloomy as ever.
Patton kicked at a slimy trail of mud, dirtying his rain-boot, huffing through his nose. Water rained down his slick raincoat, spraying lightly at his glasses, taunting him. Rumbles of thunder would course through the air and lightning would crackle but Patton always stayed until the storm passed.
And he’d looked up at the cloud-covered dark sky and smile sadly at the heavens.
“You know what I like about the rain, Virgil?” he’d ask. “No one can that tell you’re crying.”