Work Text:
Dmitri likes the rain.
It’s comforting, he supposes. When one immerses themself in that atmosphere, it’s almost like the embrace of an old friend - unjudging, familiar, and steady. It quiets insecurities and worries, washes over everything with a gentle calm.
There’s a cool melancholy to it, gazing out into the blurred world as rhythmic pattering on the sill and white noise drown out rapid thoughts. It’s a perfect setting to cleanse the present from shadows of the past, to contemplate anything at all, or perhaps leisurely compose a new work. Dmitri merely sits near the window, watching the droplets swirl and fall in song-like patterns, thinking about nothing. A fantasy book lays forgotten on the table, and a single candle burns low.
It’s so much more peaceful than anything he’s ever known. Here, he can leave everything behind, the paranoia and pain and false smiles of so long ago. Here, he is free.
Dark eyes trace the path of silver tears down the glass. Soft thunder rumbles, keeping him company. He is alone, but not lonely - just the way he prefers.
Well, not quite, Dmitri thinks, as a voice requests entry from beyond the door.
Pyotr was welcome here too.