Archive of Our Own ^beta

Paul woke up drowning.

He hastily kicked and shoved the covers away from himself, trying desperately to reduce the weight threatening to crush him. His hand flew to his chest, monitoring the fluttering of his heartbeat underneath clammy fingertips. It felt like the world around him was an entire, abyssal ocean, waves lapping at his hands and feet. He drew a shaky breath in, and out. 

It was raining. Raindrops plopped against the roof of his car, the volume of it much louder than what it was in his apartment. Unfortunately for him, he had always been a light sleeper. Little sacrifices, Paul reminded himself. He was starting to grow weary of that thought.

It reminded him of when he was much younger; further back than what he thought he could remember before. His house was on the smaller side, but large enough to host family gatherings and birthdays and Christmases. Paul combed his calloused fingers through his greasy hair. God, when was that?

It had to have been the nineties. He would have been… four? five? How far back does the average person's memory go? At least he knew it was raining, because he was absolutely terrified. 

He was terrified of thunderstorms, rainstorms, hailstorms; snow, on his worst days. His mom (or was it Aunt Lina?) never had an explanation for this, but she guessed it had something to do with the fact he almost drowned as a baby. Paul, knowing himself, assumed that was the most logical explanation.

He was in his room, cowering underneath the covers. The rest of the family was gathered in the living room, laughing and talking and drinking together, enjoying the turn of the new year. Paul was having the complete opposite of the fun his family was having, letting out a pathetic yelp when the rain suddenly increased in volume. Nobody had seemed to notice his absence yet, which he was almost grateful for.

As soon as he started to somewhat settle, a knock at his door made him jump, an embarrassingly high-pitched scream sounding from him.

“Oh, shit, sorry– didn't mean to spook you!”

It was the sound of his cousin's (...Uncle's? Aunt's?) voice. They sounded apologetic, and quickly moved away from his door. 

“You can come in. Sorry.”

Paul's voice was soft, a terrified edge to it that clearly showed his emotions. The door opened not long after, his cousin walking in, standing in the door frame. They waved awkwardly. He waved back, an instant relief pouring over him with the presence of someone else. They moved to sit down on the bed next to him, a sympathetic look on their face.

“Rain scares you?”

He nodded; it was almost embarrassing how quickly they figured it out. 

“Hey, that's okay, bud. It's loud, isn't it?”

He nodded again. That was one of the worst parts of his small house with the thin roof, he could hear every single raindrop hit. Sometimes he worried about drowning in it.

“It's normal to be scared! Even about things that might seem a little silly, y'know? I used to be scared of wearing shoes.”

Paul giggled.

“Why?”

“I thought that my feet would disappear if I couldn't see them.”

Paul's giggles turned into full-out laughter, the rain and the fear and the loneliness forgotten. His cousin was grinning too, seemingly satisfied with the fact they could make him laugh that hard.

“But how did you stop being scared?”

“Your Aunt Jill told me that while yeah, there could technically be a portal in my shoes or whatever, I'd probably be okay. She told me everything had some super scary risk to it, but it is nearly impossible for it to happen. You could die on the toilet, or getting groceries, or whatever. But does it actually happen? Not likely.”

He nodded at this, eyebrows furrowing as he churned it over in his head.

“So… the rain won't hurt me?”

“It could. But out of all the times it happens, it could only happen like, one out of one quadruple-billion-trillion-zillion. Super rare.”

For the first time, he actually paused to listen to the rain. It certainly wasn't bad. If he could get used to it, it could even be peaceful.

“Thank you.”

“Of course kiddo. Hug?”

He gratefully accepted, the embrace comforting in the best ways. His cousin's hoodie was incredibly soft, definitely well-worn, but comfortably so.

“Thank you again.”

“No problem, Carrie.”

Carrie.

Paul stared at the ceiling of his car. That wasn't his name. Who was Carrie? Did his cousin get confused with someone else? Who even were they?

Questions for when he was more awake, he decided. Maybe he could call Aunt Jill and ask who it was, considering they seemed to know her. They seemed kind. Maybe it was Belle? Or one of her friends? He didn't know. He rolled back over to his side, tucking one of his lighter blankets around himself.

The rain seemed a lot more peaceful now.