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Soft, pittering raindrops slam into the roof of their makeshift shelter. He shivers, sick and exhausted. Akutagawa hated storms—rain and mud leaking through cracks in walls and roofs. It was so cold, the dampness around him from the floor just made everything so much worse.
“Aku, you need to sit up,” a muttered voice travels to his ears. He recognizes it as Gin.
“Can"t,” He wheezes out—he couldn"t breathe.
Suddenly, loud crackling light surrounds them—lightning hits places around them. Akutagawa screamed—he hated storms, he hated this. Choking from his fear, he starts to shake. It"s so cold.
“Ryuu,” Gin puts her hand on his shoulder—it"s warm and comforting, “you"re okay. It didn"t hit the shelter.”
It was momentary comfort, a moment of acceptance. But he couldn"t start the garbled sobs that soon erupted from his face. It was cold, damp and he couldn"t breathe. Nothing would make this better but leaving. Leaving the slums, leaving this sickness… maybe even leaving life.
This storm broke his feelings of living, of being accepted. He broke, and nothing could fix it, not now at least. He knew this storm would brew a new one deep inside. One of hatred; one big, thundering storm.