Tinted Raindrops

"They used to be very close. It's truly a pity."

"Fate was indeed cruel to the poor family."

"The youngest didn't even attend his brother's funeral all those years ago."

"He had estranged himself from his family when he was just seventeen!"



Whispers and murmurs of the tragic day spread like wildfire across the whole town. Eyes trailed the man with their piercing gaze burning on his back. 

Rhett trod the murky streets of Williamsburg, grey eyes reflecting a faint familiarity from the bygone days. He didn't require a map or a guide to let him know where he was. The contours of the cityscape, the local secrets, and the hidden gems were etched in his memory all too well. 

Under its grandeur, the banyan tree still spread its enormous branches all across and the gentle murmurs of the stream which trickled down the hill could still be heard. The town had barely changed in the past decade.

The burnt brown brick houses held onto the cracks, splatters of paint, with the vines creeping in, and the dong of the church bell could still be heard every hour.

His gaze shifted to the hill which stood a few miles away and he wondered if the oak tree at its' top was still like how they'd left it. 

Oh.

There was no they now, but perhaps a fragment of his soul had never quite moved on.

The sky was soon overcast with dark clouds and it deepened the chill in the air. Storm met the cloudy sky. No mortal had ever gazed at the infinity above with such striking intensity, as if he yearned for his saving grace to fall from above.

Leaning against the brick wall of the nearby church, he pulled out a box of cigarettes from the depths of his overcoat's pocket. The white pills inside the case looked as if they were mocking him, an unsettling reminder of his present struggles.

A failure.

With a weary sigh escaping his lips, he took a contemplative drag of the cigarette, leaving behind a whisp of smoke that blurred his vision. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't look serene but bore the countenance of someone reminiscing about a memory with a loved one.

Just this moment.

Just for this moment, he'd not think about anything else but.

Alas, when did he ever listen to his head? 

Perhaps, a small part of him hoped a memento from the past might give him the closure he required, might give him the salvation he so desperately chased after.

Hope.

All those times he'd hoped for a miracle, prayed to God for one last chance, one last moment with Him, yet what had he received? Disappointment. A broken heart. Hope was dangerous. He knew it all too well.

He took one last whiff and crushed the cigarette under his shoe.

Pitter-patter.

The raindrops transitioned from a light shower to heavy rain accompanied by hail. Lightning, twinned with rolling thunder, illuminated the cloudy sky.

Perhaps he should have paid heed to the universe's warning, but old habits die hard. After all, He was the one who had taught him to follow his heart, to throw caution to the wind, and to live in the present. To breathe when things went wrong. It was ironic how he had forgotten to listen to his advice, but then that's how it always is. A person can be the master of someone else's heart but perhaps never of his own. 

That wasn't even the worst of it.

Adrenalin rushed through his veins as he ran across the cobblestone streets to the forested land, all while being drenched in the heavy rains. To him, each drop was like faded memories, reminding him of a past he'd tried so hard to forget. The memories didn't come flooding. It came one by one as if a never-ending reel was being played in his head with one scene after the other, like a gentle rain shower after the drought. 

It was in the midst of this he'd reached the hilltop. He wasn't surprised that his legs remembered the way, after all, it was a route he had traversed a hundred times.

The rain had stopped, but the woods weren't silent. It seemed as if the spirits of the forest were greeting him, maybe they too were wondering where the other half of his soul was, or maybe they already knew and his arrival had angered them understandably so. The harsh wind ruffled the leaves of the lofty trees and the running water of the stream was no longer gentle, but loud enough for the sound to resonate throughout the woods. 

His eyes finally met what he'd been looking for.

There it was, the huge oak tree in all its magnificence, but to him, it lacked what gave it its allure. 

He walked over the rich brown soil leaving behind his footprints and a crunch when he walked over broken twigs and dry leaves.

It was a battle of the inner turmoil of the body against the heart of the soul. Reluctantly, he sat down leaning against the thick age-old trunk.

He used to come here with Raphael all the time. His brother was one with nature, which wasn't the case with Rhett. Nature seemed to enjoy his brother's presence as well; the beautiful butterflies he'd seen only in books used to come flying and the birds and the bunnies, which otherwise hid from any man, came skipping over. He used to hold his brother's hand and peep from behind his back as he saw Raphael's smile lighting up the woods.

Today, it was only the sound of his low breathing and the harsh wind in the woods. The branches extended heavenwards where they roofed the paths. Sunlight peeped in through the cracks in the canopies where it lit up small patches of the grassland in front.

He wondered why he couldn't do the same. It seemed to him they were twins only in appearance, but they were anything but ordinary. His brother was the image of saintliness, the apple of their parent's eyes.

What made him different?

Perhaps it was the way honey coated his words or the generosity that dripped off of him.

But, it was only an image.

His brother was an excellent liar. 

It's bittersweet that sometimes no matter how much you think you know a person, they can surprise you in the most unexpected ways. A conundrum, wrapped in an enigma.

Rhett once caught his brother smoking behind the church after their Sunday service. It was the first time he'd seen his brother act human. Raphael simply looked at him and didn’t utter a word. Rhett didn't see the familiar angelic gleam in his brother's eyes and it brought a smile to his face.

Finally. Finally, he's not lying to me anymore.

Upon seeing the smile of his younger brother by a few minutes, Raphael chuckled and called out to him.

They spent the next hour sitting in silence, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the sounds of nature.

It was from then on they'd started visiting the woods every Sunday. Raphael smoked while Rhett used to sit beside him in silence. Sometimes they'd come across a deer or a rabbit and take turns catching the helpless animal. It wasn't any trouble for Raphael but Rhett wasn't able to make any animal come towards him unless his brother was beside him.

"Why do you smoke?", Rhett had asked once.

"I feel free.", Raphael smiled, sunlight casting a glow on his silhouette.

Have you found your freedom now, Raphael? 

***

Lilies were never Raphael's favorite.

Rhett picked up the bouquet underneath the oak tree and tossed it aside. Wildflowers suited him more.

He looked up at the infinite above, a splash of pink, purple, and orange pastels. 

 This is it.

Turning towards the hill he stretched out a hand, reaching for something that was too far away.

This would make it the last time he ever visited this place. Perhaps he was taking in the last few moments; it is true that realization truly makes it unbearable but better the truth than the aftermath of delusions.

He started walking the same path from which he'd come. A journey that had begun with promises and joys had long before ended with the promises undone and today, stained with bittersweet longings.

No eyes were trailing the man's back now. He walked an arduous path all alone, his once aching heart now devoid of any sorrow but only lingering grief.

The cigarette box lay where he'd left it, near the sturdy brick wall, but now sodden. Between the folds of the box, a thin parchment lay. A photo of two boys with their arms around each other sharing a smile, as if they were holding on to a secret only known to them. 

If someone were ever so curious to flip over the photograph, they'd find words scribbled in cursive.

But what if they ask if I regretted any of it?