When It Rains [Henrietta/Curly Goth]

The rain fell in silent sheets, soaking the damp ground and tiny walk-way that curved throughout the fadeless tombstone names. This sort of weather could be called eerie in the sense of this particular location, and anybody in their right mind would be curled up in their house instead of being outside in a half drowned cemetery. However, one person was different than the norm and she gazed at a somewhat newish carved headstone. Her somewhat chopped black locks of hair lay matted against her face as her shoulders trembled a bit.

"I miss you, Jay," The woman whispered. She reached outwards to stroke the carved name with her finger gently, while it stared her blankly in the face. Jay Fetcher was etched in big block-like print that seemed to make the situation even sadder.

The woman sniffled a bit, pulling her finger back and feeling the feather-like touch of tears escaping downwards. She wiped furiously at them and was gratefully that the falling rain smudged most of the tears away, but more kept pouring out and the woman eventually huffed out a sigh that sounded more like a choked sob, and ignored the still running tears. Her head bow slightly as soft sobs began to trickle from deep within her. Tears blurred her vision greatly, and she jumped in panic when a hot hand gently rested on her back. She turned her head around, rain dripping almost dramatically from her hair down her face as she observed her comforter.

"Ethan," Her voice was a soft whisper as she gazed at the older teen. The man's long trench coat was soaked through, but his facial features were a combination of warmth and seriousness.

"Henrietta," His voice sounded rough as he ran his hand over the small of her back. "You should be inside. It's raining, and you're completely soaked."

She chuckled at his simplicity of stating an obvious fact, and instinctually curled against his side as a chilled breeze trickled through. "This is nothing, Ethan. We used to always hang out in the cemetery when it rained."

"We were young and naive back then," Ethan said. Henrietta turned her head away to stare at the tombstone in front of her. Distantly she heard her oldest friend call her name, and she shook her head again.

"Sorry, Ethan," She apologized. "It's just hard, you know? I don't think I've ever felt this kind of pain before." Her eyes shimmered with even more tears that threatened to spill anytime soon.

The older teen bit his lip before reaching around Henrietta's waist and pulling the woman's body towards his own. He guided her gently away from the forsaken tombstone, and towards his crap car that had no heat or air conditioning. Situating themselves in the car - Henrietta for once not complaining about the uncomfortable seats - Ethan drove towards his friend's house. Pulling against the curb, Henrietta shook her head at seeing her house and turned her head to the side.

"I don't want to go home, Ethan," She whispered. He nodded his head and turned his car around, heading towards his own home.

-----

Thankfully nobody was presented at the tall Goth's home, but then again when was anyone presented in this home. His parents rarely showed their appreciation or love for him - or each other for that matter. Henrietta shivered a bit. Her wet clothes clinging to her somewhat plump frame and her lashes blinked rapidly as Ethan guided her towards a spare bedroom. He returned a few seconds later with a light green colored towel, and one of his many white buttoned down dress shirts in hand.

"I'm sorry," He apologized as she gazed with a smirk at the shirt given to her. "I don't have any girl clothes, and I prefer not to venture into my mother's closet."

"Thank you, Ethan," Henrietta said quietly; smiling as a tiny blush filter upon his cheeks. He nodded his head and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut and aiding in the sanctuary of privacy. Pulling her corset-like top off, Henrietta tossed it to the floor along with her famous black skirt. She stood in the middle of the room clothed in only her black bra and matching panties. Her stomach drooped a bit and she frowned as she poked at it in resentment.

Her face frowned even more when she remember Jay poking fun at her flabby stomach, but holding her close as he repeatedly told her how flawless she was. Or when he would tenderly kiss her curves as their bodies touched intimately. A couple of tears trickled downwards and Henrietta ran her hand over her eyes; wiping them away as she pulled Ethan's shirt over her arms and began to button it up. It was a pretty big shirt, considering how tall Ethan was. Henrietta was grateful for it being as big as it was since it hid her bra and underwear from show. Rolling the sleeves up a bit, she left the room with her wet clothes bundled up in her arms.

Ethan stood in his bedroom lighting a fag. A huff caused him to cough on the nicotine smoke as he spun around. His face flushed even more as he gazed almost lustfully at Henrietta clothed in his shirt. Her hips jutted a bit with her lovely curves and he blinked as she raised her wet clothes up to him. He took them without anger and left his bedroom with Henrietta close on his tail to his family's laundry room. The dryer hummed loudly as it broke through the silent house.

-----

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked as he passed his cigarette to Henrietta as the two find solace in his bedroom.

Henrietta sucked a bit before blowing out the smoke. "That's a little rhetorical to ask, isn't it Ethan?"

He shrugged, indifferent by her response. She passed his cigarette back before leaning back against his bed-frame. "I not completely okay," She began softly. "But I'm not a complete mess either. It just hurts. Like a numbing pain that escalates when I wake up and think about him."

She sniffled a bit. "He was the best thing I had, Ethan. He made me feel like a normal person, and he accepted my Goth views. He even accepted you, and Dylan and Georgie as good friends, and I know how hard it is for Dylan and Georgie to make friends. But every good thing doesn't last..." Her voice hitched a bit as Ethan stared thoughtfully at her. "Maybe I wasn't meant to be happy. Maybe that's why I am and always will be a Goth..."

"He was lucky to have ever dated you, Henrietta," Ethan said, putting the cigarette out on the black ashtray that sat in front of them. "Don't you know how amazing you are? Haven't you realized that you're beautiful as a Goth?"

Henrietta raised her head to stare at her friend. Ethan swallowed carefully before adverting his gaze from her. He stared at his dresser as he whispered out loud, "He was everything I wasn't."

"What?"

"He got to you first. He made you feel alive... He made you feel everything that I wanted to make you feel with me."

Ethan turned his head back to gaze at the woman next to him. Her face showed wide realization as he edged closer to her. "I've been too shy to admit my feelings, conformist or not, about you." Henrietta's bottom lip trembled a bit. "I've always been in love with you, 'Rietta. Ever since we first met back in fourth grade, I knew you were the one who completed me."

Henrietta turned her head away. Tears threatened to spill once again, but a hand cupped her chin. She allowed the sentiment and her eyes blinked rapidly as Ethan studied her. His brown eyes pleaded with her, and she trembled as he kept staring at her lips.

"I know it's too soon, but can I kiss you?"

Henrietta shivered again as she nodded. Ethan gently stroked her cheek as he pulled her lips up against his own. It was a soft kiss that was broken too soon. Henrietta's tongue instinctually licked the bottom of her lip and she turned her gaze towards Ethan.

"This is a lot to take in Ethan." Ethan bent his head ashamedly and nodded. "I don't know if I'll jump into a relationship with you, but I could after time. For now, could you kiss me again?"

Ethan bent forward meeting Henrietta halfway as she strained upwards to capture his lips again. Their mouths touched one another a little rougher than before, and Henrietta felt her eyes slide close as she instinctually moved her arms to wrap around his neck. Ethan's own arms circled around her waist drawing her closer to his body before they pulled away from the kiss; their foreheads pressed against one another as they panted gently.