Down My Soul

Title: Down My Soul
Author: Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan (falconkenobi@aol.com)
Author web page: http://www.aemslash.co.uk - Every Generation Has A Legend
Fandom: RPS – Will Young
Categories: Sappy
Rating: U
Disclaimer: William Young is a real person, and the events in these stories are completely fictional. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Legion, for the beta.
Summary: Will enjoys a rainstorm

The storm hadn’t been expected. It had been a gorgeous sunny day, the kind you don’t want to end. And then the weather turned, heavy black clouds filling the sky, the wind whipping the trees into a frenzy. You knew it was going to rain any second now, but never exactly when, so you just ran for it.

Or, at least most people did. But not Will. He simply placed his CD player and book in his bag and stayed where he was. Waiting. A loud clap of thunder and a fork of lightning zigzagging across the sky signaled the start of the downpour. And pour down it did. Thunder rain, his mother always called it. Drops so big they hit the ground and bounced straight back up again. Rain falling in sheets so thick you couldn’t see further than your out-stretched arm.

His face lighting up in a broad smile, Will closed his eyes and lifted his face to the heavens, the water pounding down on him. He stood, arms stretched out to his sides, turning slowly on the spot, laughing out loud.

Will loved the rain, loved being out in a storm, the electricity in the air tingling his skin, the water flowing off his skin. It made him feel young, feel free. Made him feel alive, truly alive. Which is why he was standing there on the shore of Lake Garda in the middle of a torrent.

His wet hair was plastered to his scalp, the water making it curl ever so slightly. Droplets rolled down his face, something getting in his eyes, making him blink. Rain rolled off his nose falling to his chest.

His T-shirt was stuck to him, clinging to his skin, defining his muscles. Water ran in rivulets down his back and chest, down into his pants, drops collecting, puddling in his belly button. His jeans were sodden and heavy, his trainers squelched when he walked. He shouted to the sky and ran along the path. He could see people through the windows, watching him as though he was mad. But he didn’t care.

The storm finished as abruptly as it started. The wind dropped, the clouds moved away and the sun shone brightly again, the temperature seeming to rise instantly.

Will stopped running and stood watching, listening as the streets filled once more with people going about their business. Lifting his face once more, he took a deep breath, still smiling. As much as he loved a good storm, Will also loved the look of the world after a storm. Everything looked clearer, the grass looked greener and the air smelt fresher. Everywhere was revived and carefree.

He shouldered his bag and wandered down the street, humming to himself drops of water dripping from his hair down his face.

Sometimes, it just felt so good to be alive.