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The rain began to hit the streets of Pentagram City and everyone ran to take shelter inside. The demons may regenerate but the acid rain was still a real nuisance that everyone wanted to avoid if possible.
At the top of a tower a demon watched the drops hit the window, an unpleasant feeling roaring like a wounded beast in his chest. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to remember. Everything would be easier if hate or indifference were the only thing he could feel. Unfortunately that was not the case.
The proof was the way this damn rain transported him to warm moments spent in a cozy living room, no one expected that someone like him would have a place like that: small and cozy so that only a select few would see it.
They had spent countless lazy days and nights sitting by the fire, a rain just like this causing a sweet background noise alongside the ever-present static and a chess board between them. Conversations in low, warm voices, boisterous laughter, and sharp, sly comments, but without the barbs they would use with others.
They were friends.
And then they were nothing.
Everything was ruined in an instant where thoughtless words were spoken, egos were bruised, and fights quickly escalated.
It hadn't been his intention for things to end like this. He valued his company, perhaps more than he had ever admitted to anyone.
But now it was too late.
Now the rain was just a bitter reminder instead of the preamble to a pleasant moment.
Alastor sighed and turned his back on the window. Perhaps it would be best to occupy himself with something else to forget.
He couldn't change the past.