Lament Shower の小説・ストーリー

Shane smiles devilishly at me. The rain is pouring down in sheets, creating a steady background hum as droplets pelt against the pavement. Amidst the dreary weather, Lorenzo stands tall and proud, his chiseled jawline and piercing eyes captivating everyone around him. Shane clicks away, Lorenzo strikes one pose after another, his body glistening with raindrops. The water cascades down his broad shoulders and defined abs, making him look even more irresistible. He runs a hand through his wet hair, his muscles flexing with each movement.

I sat in the shower. I couldn't handle this anymore. Tears fell down my cheeks and made no attempt to wipe them away. The shower rained down on me, washing nothing but dirt and blood away. The pain stayed. It had locked in my bones and was engraved in my skin. No shower could rinse it clean. My forehead fell on my knees. My eyes were shut and the blackness felt comfortable. Safe. My arms encircled my legs. I wanted to scream. To shout at the sky, pour my heart out. But my lips stayed sealed. I couldn't even utter a sigh.

With the water continuing its gentle assault, I stood beneath its revitalizing embrace, feeling the last vestiges of sorrow melt away. I reached out, my trembling hand closing around the shower handle, and with a slow twist, the rushing water gradually diminished to a mere trickle. The steam-laden air seemed to dissipate, revealing the bathroom's tiled walls now adorned with glistening droplets. I took a moment to savor the serenity that lingered, the stillness after the tempest.

"Please...” I fumble desperately for the handheld shower head, tears already dripping down my cheeks and mixing with the water raining over us. My hands shake so badly I almost drop it twice. When I finally turn it on and aim the cold spray directly at his chest, steam rises from his soaked clothes and skin, hissing. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, a low, pained groan tearing from his throat as his body jerks. I sob harder. "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—"

I stand in the shower, letting the water drip down from my hair all the way down to my feet. I sob quietly, not wanting to wake Ramon. This is all too unbearable but I hope, slightly hope, that maybe this water can wash away my tears and drown my sorrows.

I walk quietly to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Sitting in the bathtub, I pull my knees to my chest and let the warm water envelop me. The shower is on; the sound of the water cascading down is almost comforting, but it can’t drown out the storm inside my heart. Tears flow freely down my cheeks, mixing with the droplets that splash against my skin. It feels like a release, a way to let out all the pain I’ve been holding inside for so long.

“I’m so sorry…” The grief and longing swelled until it became too much to contain. I stood up abruptly, needing to move, to do something. I gathered my hair into a loose ponytail, tying it back so it wouldn’t get wet, and headed toward the luxurious en-suite bathroom. The shower was a spacious marble affair with multiple rainfall heads and soft ambient lighting. I turned the water on hot, letting the steam fill the room as I stripped off my black funeral clothes. The water cascaded over my skin like a soothing embrace, washing away the day’s tears and tension.

She pressed her hands to the roots, tears slipping down her cheeks. “He’s still here,” she whispered. “Both of them are.” The Children bowed their heads as the melody deepened. It was not a song of sorrow. It was remembrance— a sound of love shaped by loss. --- The Tree’s Lament For three nights, the valley glowed gold. The Tree of Memory never slept; its leaves quivered with soft music, its trunk pulsed like a slow-beating heart. Those who touched it saw flashes— Lyra’s light dancing through the first rain,

Standing there, vulnerable and exposed, she stepped into the welcoming cascade of the shower. The warmth of the water cascading down upon her became a balm for her weary soul, washing away not only the physical dirt but also the intangible weight of her tears and the agony she had carried since the untimely passing of her father. With closed eyes, Isabella allowed herself to lean forward, her forehead gently connecting with the cool tiles. She surrendered herself to the healing flow, allowing the water to cleanse her body, mind, and spirit. The symphony of droplets meeting the tiled surface and the mist rising in the air created an ethereal atmosphere, temporarily whisking her away to a diff

Not a gentle drizzle. A downpour, cold, merciless, blinding. It hit the cemetery like grief itself, drenching the mourners who remained, scattering umbrellas like defeated shields, and soaking through the black silk of Luca’s suit until it clung to his skin like a second, suffocating layer. But he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He stood there, letting it happen. Letting the storm drown out the condolences, the footsteps behind him, the final clumps of dirt thudding onto the casket that held the man who had shaped every corner of his life, whether through love or legacy or silent expectations.