The rain was rounds of machine gun shells that pierced the soft ground, fired off by some unknown creator. It hit the windows of the classroom in different harmonies and then would turn its attention on to parked cars and playground sets. A pencil was held loosely in her hands as she tried to focus her attention upon the words that slipped out of the teacher’s lips and splashed against her eardrums. Sometimes she’d let the words seep in but usually she’d let them evaporate and turn her mind to different waters. Her eyes flowed over to gaze at the boy slumped down in his desk, headphones hidden beneath a grey hoodie, and pen-turned-drumstick wielded tightly in palm. Azalea’s pink lips concealed the giggles that begged to be released as she watched, as Ford was absorbed into the mixture of words spouted from his iPod.

Ford felt her ocean blue eyes on him and slowly turned around to glance at her, making direct eye contact. Azalea froze and felt her cheeks heat up, staining her face the color of a red rose. He managed out a small smile at her, before shifting back into his creaky plastic chair. Azalea hid for a moment in the long sleeves of her shirt, embarrassed of the attention she was receiving, before trying to focus on the rest of the day’s lesson. Ford slowly removed his ear phones, some of his music spilling out into the quiet classroom. Then the bell rang and he carefully stood up, approaching Azalea with the newfound confidence she had seemingly given him.

“Would you like to sit together at lunch?” He breathed, biting his lip. Azalea swiped her wavy hair behind her ears and nodded eagerly, tossing her backpack around her shoulder.

“Yeah I’d like that…” She breathed, her voice was soft like the petal of an untouched flower and Ford felt drawn to it. Azalea followed Ford out of the classroom and down the hall towards the cafeteria. Now fate had set in motion their place in each other’s lives, it was up to them to find the significance.

See Ford was like the rain – cold to the touch yet still so alluring, and while most of the time others would stay clear of him, it only took one certain person to reveal his deeper purpose. Azalea, on the other hand, was a flower – a lone rose in a patch of daisies; everyone desired to be like her, yet instead of compliments and admiration she would only receive scoffs of hatred and jealousy. For true beauty does not seek attention.

They were so different, yet so similar – two odds in a world full of norms. The flower needs rain to grow in strength and beauty, but too much would kill her, while the rain needs a purpose to keep on going, but give him too much power and he will abuse it. And so the flower in the rain was born, a girl who saw too little in herself and a boy who begged for a purpose to live.