Felicity and I are left to our own devices on Sunday morning when Annabelle and Bonnie go out shopping.

It's a cloudy day, already raining. It looks like it's about to storm.

I go through my backpack until I find the book we're supposed to read in English. Professor Clark said something about it being able to change one's entire perspective on writing.

I love these types of books on certain days. It's nice to have something that inspires you to improve yourself and actually do something.

Someday I want to write one of those books.

I curl up in Annabelle's bed and crack it open. It's really pretty thin, at least compared to what I'm used to.

The window and curtains were opened while we slept (it's warm and humid out, and was similar last night; it's quite relaxing to sleep in air like that), and I can hear the gentle pattering of the rain against the side of the house.

I finish the book (it really wasn't that long) just as the rain starts to get heavy. I close the window to avoid water coming in, then head out into the hallway.

I kind of stop walking once I head through the doorway, forgetting what I mean to do.

The words I just read are kind of lingering in my mind, making me appreciate the delicate prose. I decide that if this book were a person, it would be that girl who people see and chat with, and much later she comes back into their minds, rendering them unable to forget her quiet voice and pretty eyes.

Professor Clark, as usual, was right.

I'm in that mood, where you want to shout from rooftops and kiss people and go on an adventure. Where you want to change people's lives.

Unfortunately, I don't think there's much I can do curled up here in my girlfriend's bed.

My phone screen lights up against the wall on the other side of the room and vibrates on the dresser, making a loud rattling sound.

I roll out of bed with an 'oomph' and stumble over to it -- it's a post from Annabelle's blog.

A picture of Annabelle standing spread-eagled against a wall with a mural of a vibrant pride flag. (At least, I'm assuming it's a pride flag. All rainbows are pride flags.)

I can't see her face, the picture is too far away, but I can imagine her expression: that face when she squeezes her eyes shut real tight and scrunches up her nose and her cheeks lift up about an inch.

And she says I'm the adorable one.

I sit back down on the bed, and then almost fall off of it due to the loud and unexpected clap of thunder that resonates through the room and probably the house.

It's followed by a high-pitched crash, like that of a glass breaking. It sounded like it was coming from the hallway, or somewhere in here.

I open the door. It must have been Felicity. She's the only other one here.

"Felicity?" I knock on her door. "Are you okay?"

I hear a cough, then something moving. "Yeah, I'm fine." It sounds kind of strangled.

"Is it okay if I come in?"

"Um ... yeah, it's okay." It comes out like a sigh. Strangled again. I crack open the door, and immediately see her curled up against the wall farthest from the window.

I crouch right next to her. I think she's scared of storms. But I don't want to ask, because she might get uncomfortable. (No matter how much she likes me, we've only just met. I know I don't trust many people that easily.) So I just sit right beside her, making sure she can feel that I'm here.

Lightning flashes through the sky, and the large window certainly doesn't help in this situation. I feel her flinch beside me.

I know that there are windows in almost all rooms of the house, except the basement.

I take Felicity's warm, slightly trembling hand and pull her to her feet. She doesn't question it. Maybe she just doesn't want to open her mouth for fear of what would come tumbling out.

I've been there -- we've all been there.

I grab her record player and the box of records, piling them under my free arm.

I squeeze her hand. Reminding her that I'm here.

She doesn't look at me, and I don't look at her, and we don't speak. I feel the smallest pressure on my palm in return.

There's another clap of thunder. It's been awhile since I've been in such a heavy storm.

I put the record player on the ground next to where I sit, my back against the couch. Felicity's still standing and moves to sit next to me, but I pull her so she's in between my legs and her back is against my chest.

I rifle through the records and select Lungs. Once it's started playing, I stretch behind myself, then come back with a blanket. I wrap it around Felicity, whose thin body is shaking, albeit less violently.

I start singing along softly, and soon enough she starts too.

It's something Annabelle forgot to mention: Felicity has the voice of an angel. It's soft and sweet and clear, even through her panic.

I place my hands on her shoulders and start rubbing them. I don't know how long she was curled up like that against the wall, but her back must be sore.

"Annabelle really doesn't exaggerate anything," she says. It's the first thing I've heard her speak this whole time, and it's really sleepy. I grin stupidly wide at the fact that she's finally relaxed enough to feel like that.

"What do you mean?"

"You are the actual embodiment of sunshine."

And with that, she snuggles even farther back into me, and I think she's fallen asleep.

I try my best to stay in the same position to not disturb her, and keep the records going so she can't hear the thunder as well.

But she startles awake when the door to the basement flings open, casting the hall light down the stairs at us.

"Oh my God, Felicity! I tried to come as soon as possible, but we had to pull over because it was getting too dangerous for me to drive, and so I ran home because I know you hate storms but I got lost and --"

She's drenched and dripping and flailing her limbs all over the place, and only calms down when she sees her sister's condition.

"Oh my goodness, Hazel, oh my goodness. You're an angel. Protecting an angel." She throws her arms up in the air frustratedly, flinging drops of water everywhere. "Everyone in this house is a fucking angel, aren't they!"

Felicity turns to look at me, then back at her now slightly less hysterical sister. "Mmhmm."

Annabelle rolls her eyes, then looks down at herself, like she's just remembered she's soaking wet.

She turns on her heel and stomps up the stairs. I hear her mutter "Fucking angels," one more time before she slams the door.

Felicity and I look at each other, then giggle, and stand up. The storm's ended, and it's just a light drizzle.

Annabelle comes out into the kitchen, and she's calmed down a bit. She's also dried off her hair and put on a pair of gray sweatpants with her light pink robe sweater thing.

When Bonnie opens the door and sees us all together in the kitchen, she just fondly rolls her eyes at us (Annabelle in particular), then goes up to her room.

Annabelle and Felicity snicker, and I lean back against the counter sipping some coffee. It's strange to think that I've only been here for two days. It feels like forever.

a/n: hi sorry this is really late but i mean it only affects like two people currently but if you're reading this have a wonderful day and remember to drink some water and that everyone loves you