Snow melts to rain, seeds poke through the dirt, sunshine is back. Spring is just poking its head out. March. Chilly days that will drizzle into warmer ones.

The season of rain. Rain washes the world clean, a new chance. A season of forgiveness.

I finish my morning shift at Darcy's, Dee sending me off to relax on a lazy day. The only customers that came in were the boy and the girl. They sat in their same spot and spoken stories slipped off their tongues to entertain one another in their perfectly precious bubble. Adventures of knights, tales of valour, stories of sadness, histories of heartbreak, antidotes of admiration.

"I can't believe you got me to read that." He groans out through giggles.

Her cackles are cheery and bright, "A Tale of Two Cities is one of Charles Dickens best works."

Their hands wrapped tightly together and cheeks brushed with a rogue of amorousness. Young love, so pure and true, stories the foundation of their inseparable bond. Simple gestures of trust, a shared interest and lips pressed to the cheeks.

She lays on her back, arguing the joys of her favorites books as her feet rest in his lap. He taps her shin with his fingers as he flips through the pages of her favorite books in hopes to please her, to keep her intellect close to his heart.

I noticed their love story unfolding between the cracks between the books that rest on the shelves. I slip the novels back into their resting places, quieting their laughs. My fingers peel off post-it notes and return the books one by one. The last book in the stack is one that I was unsurprised to find but somehow still shocked by.

The Louis Armstrong biography--again.

A sticky note pressed to the inside of the front cover, bright pink with dark ink seeping on it.

'Please don't take my Sunshine away. H.' A poorly drawn sun scribbled on the corner that mirrors the same ones I have tucked away in my notebook.

I peer around the store before I slip the note into my notebook and slam it shut. I shove the notebook with hidden harborings of undeniable caring for cloud covered Sunshine.

I texted Sam to meet me at Dorthea's once he was free. I just wanted to spend my day with my soft love, the picture perfect boy that somehow holds me in high regard. We've been in an awkward space ever since Valentine's Day, I refuse to believe that the root of this shift is Harry, but I know that's most likely the root.

I've been staying at Bob's, as to not be a burden to Teddy and Nick. Any free time I've had away from work has been spent in Dorthea's, but not with Harry. I haven't had a sincere conversation with him since my shoulder dislocated. I've just been listening to music in a fruitless effort to distract myself from the pain I refuse to medicate.

I told everyone that I slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk and tried to catch myself on a lamp post. The doctor put me in a sling two weeks ago for two weeks and gave me painkillers to help dull the ache.

The orange bottle sits on my dresser--the white cap never twisted, a pill never swallowed.

My suffering isn't localized to my shoulder, my heart aches just so. The realization of Harry's alcoholism has sent me down a spiral of guilt, a daughter of an addict and I can't even see all of the warning signs.

A prince and a valiantly malicious knight. A prince with golden hair and golden eyes, a soft soul and treasurable heart to match. A malicious knight with hazel locks and emerald irises, a forbidden caring behind them.

A lady's hand given to the prince, her heart a flutter at his sweet gestures. He delivers her precious petals and divine foods. Deliciously delectable words coated in sugar and gold plated actions.

A lady's heart given to the knight, her hand shaking at his deep cutting truths. He delivers her rib-aching laughter and divine music. Succulent sour words coated in salt and rawly motivated actions.

Her heart tells her to run through fields and swim across oceans to reach the knight who holds it. Her hand tells her to lock herself high in a tower to stay with the prince who holds it.

A story unfolding, the boy and the girl, but nowhere near as innocent and pure.

I finished my tasks and quickly pulled my tote over my shoulder. A quick hug for Dee and a string of praises from her before I headed out the door with a waving hand and a heart that is eager to forgive the knight.

The sky above a beautifully sombre grey, darkened clouds of cotton holding impending showers that will send shivers down sensitive spines and curious vulnerability into pumping hearts. The ground is wet with melted snow and only to be added to by spring showers that will wash the pavement clean, wash the world clean.

I step to Dorthea's door and pull it open, I'm greeted by her warm smile and a jovial greeting from George. The music playing over the sound system is so quiet that the melody is unrecognizable at first. The start of pelting rain hitting the sidewalk catches my attention and a wide grin pulls my cheeks tight and pained from joy.

"Rain." I whisper out with a hushed tone.

George comes over to me, "I think you've inspired our store's soundtrack."

I turn to him, my smile unwavering, "It's wonderful. I'm enjoying it."

He nods and a grin tugs at the corners of his lips, "He's in the back."

"Thank you." I nod out and wave at Dorthea as I pass the desk.

Her sugar-coated tone warms my chest, "Hi sweetie."

"Having a good day Dorthea?" I ask through a soft smile.

She nods as she beams, "When a darling like you is around, always."

I place my hand over my heart and walk back to the instrument section of the store. He's cleaning instruments and humming to himself. His broad body coated in a white tee shirt that hugs his muscles with a golden cross pendant resting on his chest. His curls frame his eyes as a beautiful painting of a high grass field.

"Sunshine?" I choke out, my fingers of one hand picking at the nail beds of my index finger and thumb that pinches my bottom lip.

He continues to hum without turning around, not acknowledging my presence.

"Sunshine." I stutter out again, my voice cracking. My hands fall to the ends of my hair and twist it through my fingertips.

He turns around with a lost look on his face, showing he wasn't expecting me to be here. I swear I see the corners of his mouth turn ever-so-slightly upwards and a dimple carving his cheek.

"Sunshine." His voice crushes the wall between us and I can't help but run up to him and throw my arms around his middle.

I feel his body stiffen rigidly before relaxing into the embrace. His arms wrap hesitantly around my shoulders, his hand bringing my head to lay against his chest. His love muscle pushing against the taught brawn of his chest to thump loud vibrations into my ear.

I let out a sigh of relief as he runs his fingers across the blades of my shoulders, "I missed my Sunshine."

"I've missed mine too." He whispers out.

I whimper out as the pain in my shoulder is inflamed by the pressure being put on it. He pulls back and gives an apologetic look, his eyes wide and lips downturned, "Oopsie."

"I'm alright." I mutter out.

We let ourselves step apart and as soon as we do, he grabs my hand, dragging me towards the front of the store, the rambling begins, "I've found so many new records for you. I've been hoardin' them in the fucking back waiting for you to show up, my grandparents probably knew they were for you but I'll never tell them. I found some real treasures, been waiting for you to let up already and just come back."

I chuckle and a snort rips through my nose, my hands fly over my face and my eyes go wide. We've been pulled into the oldies aisle and his expression is so joyous it pains me.

"Really classy, Sunshine. A true lady, never met a girl quite like you." He teases.

I roll my eyes and swing my good arm to punch him in the shoulder, "Right, right, because you're such a gentleman."

He laughs lightly and tussles up my hair, "Is that what brought you in here? To make amends?"

"I came to call a truce. No strings, just friendship." I state with a newfound seriousness.

Friendship. No strings--no deep dark secrets told in the middle of the night, no vulnerable sob stories early in the morning. Just friendship.

He nods with theatrical earnesty, "Sounds like a deal to me. Pinky?"

"Promise," I say as I hold out my pinky to wrap with his. We meet our lips to our thumbs and shake our hands one time before dropping them back to our sides.

The smirk that pulls on his face is sweetly suspicious, a wave of mistrust washing over me. "What did you do?" I ask with a scowl on my face.

"I haven't done anything," he says as his eyes dart around the room, avoiding mine. "Promise," he says with his pinky outstretched.

"Harry," I say with a stark glare.

A smile slipping across his lips, his teeth sinking in his bottom lip in an attempt to hide it, "I just was thinking about your stupid fucking country lovin' wanker loverboy."

I swat his arm again, "Hey. Be nice, friends are nice remember?"

My eyes shoot wide, "Shit, Sam." I dig through my tote to find my phone, a message displayed across the screen. 'I'm outside Pheebs.'

I nudge him with my shoulder, "See ya later friend."

"Bye Sunshine." He mumbles out with a subdued smile.

I shuffle outside and am met with the saddest sight I've ever seen. My golden prince, my bright puppy-eyed boy, his eyes are glassy. His hair dampened from the rain dancing beautifully from the sky. He looks at me with suffering singing my insides until the blood is cauterized and my guts are shriveled.

"Sam," I say as I grab his face with my good hand, "What's wrong, what happened?"

He shakes his head to get out of my grasp, "You said you'd never fall but you've fallen off the cliff. With him. I've never seen anyone look at another person the way you look at him, go be with him Phoebe."

"What are you talking about, no one is falling off a cliff here." I stutter out through hiccuped breaths.

"Phoebe, when I said I never wanted to fall for a girl like you because I wouldn't be able to fall for someone else. You said you'd never fall and I believed you, I thought I could live with that. Seeing the way your eyes light up when you look at him, you have something with him. You can't deny it." He exclaims with the tears in his eyes fighting to leak onto his face.

I shake my head, "Sam. No, please, I want to be with you."

"I can't be with someone that fell off the cliff for someone else." His voice croaks.

"So that's it?" I ask through choking down sobs.

"That's it. I'll be here if you climb back up." He sniffles out.

I let the tears slip from my eyes as he turns and walks away. His figure disappearing into oblivion as I'm left there standing with sobs tearing up my throat.

I find my phone in my tote and pull it out, searching through my contacts until I find the one person that could help me through this. Teddy.

The tone dials twice before she picks up, "Hey Pheebs, what's up? When're you coming home?"

A splintering cry tumbles off my tongue, "Sam he-he just bro-broke up with me."

"Oh, Phoebe Mae. My spinster, come home right now. We'll wallow, eat ice cream and watch sad movies until we're nauseous and we have no tears left to cry." She says with great sympathy.

I whine like a child, "I knew he wa-as too good to be true."

"What happened, love?" She questions with condolence.

I gush out with trails of tears staining my already wet cheeks, "I just couldn't fall for him. He knew it and decided that he couldn't be with me."

"My love, I'm so sorry. I'll see you at home. I love you Phoebe." She says gracefully, tiptoeing around my instability.

I stifle back my cries, "Love you Theodora."

I stumble back into the door, my shoulder stinging at the harsh contact, only making me scream out in pain and the tears only fall harder. My hand fumbles behind me until I grip the handle and twist it open.

Locked in a tower, the key has been thrown away, I'm trapped, trapped forever in the dragon guarded sanctuary of solitude. Any hope of that fleeting image of everlasting enamouration in which I'm saved for a life of suffering from sufferings of the past.

I'm not even the damsel, I'm the dragon. I'm the one that should be feared, I breathe fire on anything good. I should have seen this coming, after all--how could a gentleman love a wench's child?

My feet digging into the floor, sreenches from the moisture seeping off my soles as I stagger into the back of the store. I cough out cries of complication until I'm falling back into his arms.

His structured arms engulf me in an embrace that holds no questions.

Is it really that obvious?

Am I truly that damaged?

Could I possibly be that unconsciously destructive?

"Sunshine." He whispers.

"Th-he clouds are gone." I weep out into his chest, my hands fisting his shirt.

His arms stiffen, "What, Sunshine?"

"He had to lea-ve." I sniffle as I look up at him.

He steps back, "Why? Where'd he go?"

"He ju-ust had to go." I stutter out as I drop my head.

He nods and grabs my hand, "Let's just go to Tiff's, you can't cry, it's raining."

Our walk was silent. My mind was spinning with flashes of Sam's sweet smile and Harry's strong arms, Sam's kind words and Harry's bitter honesty, Sam's outward glow and Harry's hidden luminescence.

He pulls the door open before placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me to sit on the squeaking stool, it's red vinyl torn and stained. A brush of his fingers over my sweater before he falls to the seat next to me.

Gianna gets our drinks, a sprite a piece. I sit stirring my straw around the cheap plastic cup, the quiet clinking of the tube against the interior of the glass. The carbonation sending bubbles tumbling around the gauntlet of polymer.

Harry sits slouched thumping his thumbs against the sides of the counter in tandem with the shushed murmur of melodic majesty. The clanging of frying pans against the stove and spatulas against the griddle.

The rain continues to plummet in steadily heavy showers, the droplets crashing into the window and racing down sides of buildings. Gutters overflowing with the sprinkles of spring. My cheeks stained with trails of tears concealed by moistened hair and rain speckled clothes.

Grace steps up in front of us with a compassionate look and a mango milkshake in hand. The condensation dripping down the decorative glass, whipped cream mounted with a saccharine maraschino cherry. It's golden orange, unmistakeable. As child Tiff would sneak them to me on days that she saw me downtrodden, "Let me add some sunshine to this gloomy day," she'd say.

The first time she'd spoken those words to me I was eight years old. Bob was out of town on business, leaving Teddy and I to suffer with my mother. I'd dropped a plate in the kitchen and she chased after me, screaming in my face. I tried to outrun her but she took a wooden chair and crashed its leg into my foot, sending raging agony striking through my leg. She dug the wooden stake into my foot over and over again until I collapsed on the ground and was a pile of weeping bones.

I'd limped out of the house and to Tiff's, I didn't know where else to go. Bob always took us to Tiff's on days when my mother was being especially cruel and so it was instinctual. My reddened, running nose and leaking tear ducts were met with a warm hug from Tiff and a large mango milkshake, my favorite.

"Let's add some sunshine to this gloomy day," Grace gushes out sympathetically, "Teddy told me."

I let out a defeated exhale and drop my face into my palms, "Of course she did."

"It gets better," she comforts as the glass clinks against the countertop, "Break ups suck."

I peek through my fingers to see Harry sitting stick straight with an expression I've never seen before. It's furiously sorrowed and contradictingly relieved. His jaw set tight in anger, his lip downturned in apology, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Break up?" He mutters out, his face unchanging.

I nod my head with my face still in my hands.

He stands up from the stool and loud booms follow like thunder as he strides out of the door, the bell ringing violently at its opening and quick close. I turn back to Grace but she'd gone off to another table. I shuffle around in my seat, the stool screeching as the worn metal grinds itself in an effort to twist. My hands fumble with the milkshake's straw, bringing it to my lips and taking a few large gulps before hopping down to the ground and going after him.

I step out in the steadily falling rain, my clothes instantly drenched and hair sticking to my neck. He paces back and forth in front of the door on the sidewalk--his hands jumping from forming fists at his sides, taking handfuls of hair in his grasp, and pulling at the shirt plastered against his chest.

I stand there just watching him--muttering out curses as he kicks at a puddle, shaking his head as he laughs to himself--until he looks back at me.

"An absolute fucking prat." He barks out into the air.

I grimace, "An absolute huh?"

"I'm as big an idiot as he is." He says through clenched teeth.

I stand wordless in front of him, emotionless, a statue.

"Is that how I was always meant to find out? Through loose-lipped waitresses? Doesn't sound very friendly," He gripes out through an angered huff.

"We said no strings," I mumble as I look at him with a pathetic pout.

He lets out a laughed breath as he throws his hands up to grip his temples roughly and begins walking away with his back turned to me, "Strings, right." He turns back and points his finger at my chest, "Can't you see how tied up I am? How much of myself I've allowed to be knotted into this?"

I scoff, "I didn't ask you to do that."

"But you did. With the being friendly, and the talking under street lamps, and the music, and the pancakes, and the pretending to care, and the pretending not to care, and-and-." He pauses--his hands falling down at his sides and his chin falling to meet his chest, "And the way you look at me, my guts are all knotted up, tied in a bow really. I can't look at you when you look at me that way." His lush lashes casting a shadow on the vast meadow of his irises, a beauty brought about by only one thing--rain. His eyes misted over with rain, "I want Sunshine."

"I didn't ask you to get tied up with me and my life. I wasn't letting you eat my pancakes or telling you about my favorite music to loop you into a false incandescence. I just-." I stop myself before the words come tumbling out and forcing me to fall onto the pavement in distress.

The world is vulnerable when it rains, but even the heaviest of showers won't allow me to let go of the notion I've so gravely bestowed upon myself.

I am not one to be held in high regard, to be enamoured for, to be cared for any capacity other than familial burden.

"I just-," a shaky breath leaving my lips, "I didn't mind having you around."