I'm Tired of the Rain

I'm Tired of the Rain
(Originally posted here by puff22_2001.)
9 June 2017
Hermann feels the weight of depression crushing him, keeping him in place. He knows that the Kaiju won't wait for his pity party, but he just can't force himself up from the bed. His shame at this only makes things worse. His wings are free, but they droop and cover him like a shroud. Hermann appreciates his greyscale sight as he only does on days like today.
It's his 28th birthday. Tendo will no doubt have a little sugar-free cake for him, and his team in the lab might wish him well, but what's the point? He's 28 and he has nothing to show for his existence.
His wings and his mind have kept him from so much. His few relationships have all ended in pain—his last, less than a year ago in a near suicide attempt. He can't drive due to his leg, so he's never had a license and can go nowhere without help. His siblings, as supportive as they are, must be sick of hearing Hermann's troubles. Hermann has nothing but his work and how long can that last? At their core, he means for his equations and graphs to go obsolete one way or the other soon—either by victory or death.
Why do I keep going? Hermann thinks as he musters his little energy to call LOCCENT and tell Tendo that he's ill and that he won't make it in to the lab (or to see Tendo) that day. The call is a blessed, short conversation, though Hermann can tell that his friend worries for him.
“Are you sure, Brother? I can still come by with your gift.”
“No, thank you, Tendo. I'll be in bed most of the day. You can visit tomorrow when I'm not contagious, however.” It costs Hermann an effort to both extend the offer and to lie. But then, is it lying, at heart? The mathematician's black cloud could very well ruin Tendo's day. Better that Hermann suffer in silence alone than destroy the smile on his pompadour-ed friend's face.
And, in a way, keeping Tendo from him is Hermann punishing himself for being himself. He's a monster and twisted and wrong. Tendo is too nice, too sweet to be around him. It's why he's had so few friends, besides the need to keep his "condition" secret. He knows that he's a poor sport. That being in his presence is a chore. That he's wrong and that normal people only tolerate him because of what he can do, not because of what he is. What he is, is broken.
Hermann rolls over as best as he can towards the wall. His wings stick out from the movement and he curls them around himself again, his shield and his curse. His leg throbs and tears leak from his eyes. Hermann can cry only here in the dark of his room. Even then, the self-loathing and shame is deafening in the silence.
Why would anyone ever want to be my friend?
Why would anyone ever love me?
The man weeps as pain courses through him.
Category:Ficlet
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Category:Puff22 2001