It was one of those days when the rain just wouldn't stop. It was cold and wet and the only sounds were the downpour and the occasional blasts of thunder. The sun was blotted out just enough so that it wasn't dark enough to be dark, but it also wasn't light enough to be light.

Truly, it was a somber landscape.

But Lucy wasn't running to get out of the rain.

She was just walking along her way, down some old road with cracks woven throughout and weeds lacing the shoulders.

Wasn't she worried about getting wet? No, her clothes and long, black hair were already soaked to the point where the water just rolled off of her in beads. Wasn't she cold? Yes, but it was something she could feel that didn't hurt. All she ever heard in her foster home were harsh, scathing words and orders.

"Lucy! Why don't you ever wear anything nice? You're an embarrassment!"

"Lucy! I thought I told you to do the dishes! I don't care what kind of homework you have! DO THE DISHES!"

"Lucy! Why are you so incompetent?!"

Why was she? She didn't know. She didn't know why everyone hated her, but there must have been a reason. Her parents abandoned her and she had been bounced around from home to home as long as she could remember.

She was all alone.

A boy that looked to be about Lucy's age was sitting casually on a boulder with his legs crossed and his back leaning against an adjacent birch tree, which was partially covered with thick vines. The cover of the tree seemed to keep the boulder mostly dry.

The boy himself had fluffy, light blonde hair poking out from under the hood of his rain coat. His eyes were as blue as Lucy's were green, but seemed more... alive, somehow. He was holding an old acoustic guitar, picking at the strings.

"No need to be nervous," he continued when Lucy didn't reply, "Just wondering."

"Yeah," Lucy replied, just realizing it herself, "I guess I am looking for something."

"You look tired. Why don't you sit down?"

"Tired?" She scoffed as she sat down. Some unknown rage bubbled to the surface. "Yeah, I'm tired alright. I'm tired of everyone and everything always... always..."

"Getting in your way?" the boy finished.

She was shocked to find he was right and muttered, "Yeah."

"What's your name?" He sounded so... nice. No one had ever spoken to her so kindly, with such care. No one had ever asked her name so sincerely before.

"Lucy," she replied, dumbstruck, "and you are?"

"Raphael," he answered, reaching one hand over his guitar for her to shake. She took it and he continued, "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Something wrong? Well, besides... everything." He resumed strumming on his guitar, while still maintaining eye contact.

Lucy looked away, "Sorry, I'm just not used to people being so..."

"Cordial?"

"I was going to say friendly, but... yeah."

"Been there, done that, not going back. So, Lucy, what brings you to this unused back-road in the middle of a forest on a day like this?"

"Life." She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the cracks in the road while she played with her shoe laces. Even those were drenched.

"Yeah, those bad parts of life can really suck." He started playing some simple but soothing song.

Lucy scoffed again and leaned back, supporting herself with her hands, "I've yet to see any of the good parts."

Raphael focused on the song for a moment before replying, "You know, there was a point when I'd stopped believing in those good parts, too."

"Who said I stopped believing in the good stuff?" she gathered up her long hair and wrung it out.

"Come on," he laughed, "it's all over your face. Plus, in my experience, people who believe in good stuff don't take hikes in weather like this."

"Alright, then what made you believe again or whatever?"

"I died."

Lucy recoiled from shock, nearly slipping off their stone perch. That was not what she expected.

She struggled to reply, "You... you what?"

"Relax," he chuckled, "I'm not a ghost or anything, if you believe in that kind of stuff. I got into a stupid fight and got the tar beaten out of me... and then I was shot.

"Anyway, someone called 911 and I ended up in a coma for three days and, the by sunset of day three, I died."

"I saw the light and everything. So I'm laying there, feeling like I'm slipping away as the doctors are trying to revive me and I'm looking up at that light thinking 'It's a shame nothing in life was that beautiful.'"

"Then, like I was slapped in the face by one of those angels, I... I don't know what the word is. Un-died? Anyway, that's what I did."

Despite herself, Lucy laughed at his inability to find the reverse of death. Then asked, "What happened after that?"

"Enough about me, what about you?"

"Ah, no. That's not how I do things," Lucy hadn't been aware that she had a way of doing things, "Finish your story, then I'll tell you mine."

"Okay, then. Where was I?"

"Not dead."

"Right. So I had just un-died. I was in the hospital for four more days before my good-for-nothing parents found me. Those nights I couldn't get myself to sleep. This little girl came and talked to me every night. I never got a good look at that girl those nights, it was always so dark. I'm not sure why, but I told this little girl everything I was thinking and feeling. Finally, I told her about how the only good thing I'd ever seen was that light and you know what she said?"

"What?"

"'Sure you have, you just didn't look hard enough.' I realized that she was right. There was good stuff, but I was so caught up with all the bad things I didn't pay attention."

Lucy smiled. Her insides felt warm, hopeful, but it only served to make her skin feel colder.

"Then when can we talk?"