When that April with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote... -Canterbury Tales

"Ke-ke-ke. That won't do, no it won't. Not at all." Violet paws prodded and tweaked the design, fixing a few things here, there. Pitter-patter of soft water droplets graced it, washing away some of the paint, but it was all a part of the art's appeal. It was beautifully imperfect; a piece only a genius such as he could understand. Ears twitched out of habit, swiveling this way and that.

It must be perfect.

She had always loved April showers. The smell of the warm rain, nourishing the plants and grasses. Even the Caterpies would crawl out of their hiding holes to dance in it. Kricketots would chirp and sing their sweet melodies as the stars appeared in the softening sky. She had always loved April showers... The cooling air and the feel of drizzle moistening her cyan skin, trickling down her speckled spines. Her luminous red eyes would be alight with love and happy thoughts as she danced under the darkening clouds. Oh, how he missed her... his
April, who loved April showers

"A little there... tweak it, fix it, make it perfect." The voice was hushed, held back, quashed. The artist is a fragile thing, and thus is the art. Loudness cannot be allowed to shatter the mood, the atmosphere. This was a piece of love, after all.

Do it. Don’t break it. Make April happy. Make her proud. Don’t break it, it’s fragile, like her fluttering little heart.

She hated when he talked to himself. She would scold him for muttering, her ears flattened back in two long lines. “Stop that, you sound like a lunatic,” she’d bark, teeth chattering with anger. “You’ll frighten everyone.” His lover did not like the way he made his art. April didn’t see the beauty in it...

“It’s almost there, isn’t it, darling? You’ll love this, I promise you will. Yes you will.” The rain began to fall harder, spattering the piece with bitter coldness. The clouds darkened. Pokemon were beginning to hide and go home, but not him. He would stay for as long as he needed to--his devotion was unmatched, his love unmeasurable!

She loved the rain... April loved the rain... April showers, yes, yes! But what came after? April showers...

Her beautiful face had shone in the moonlight, in the dampening rain. The rain from her eyes was a sight to behold... so, so beautiful. But why was she cringing, there in the corner? Why was April holding up her claws like she’d hurt him? Why was she whimpering in fear? She loved the rain, shouldn’t she come out and see it? Yes, yes she should! He would take her and make her see how much she loved the rain. He could make her remember, and she would love him ever so much! Wouldn’t she? She would, he would make certain.

“Oh, oh, darling, why would you run from me? I love you so much, my April, this will be pretty, make you love me again! I can’t wait until you come back to me!” He chittered to himself, long ears erect and vibrating with excitement. His nose twitched with the sweet scent of the rain and the pain, and her lingering musk. Ah, how much he wanted to be with her... His crimson eyes began to glaze with emotion as he remembered her lovely, pale face. The way her eyes would light up with life. How they looked when she told him she loved him. How they looked when there was indescribable fear in them.

If you won’t love me, I will make you see. I will force you to understand, and then you will be sorry, and we will kiss and be together again!

“Leave me alone! I never want to see you again!” she screamed at him, spines raised. He was hurt, demolished, really. His heart shattered within his chest, the pieces slicing his insides and leaving cold, hot cuts that froze and burn. “My darling, but I love you,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “My love for you is endless, I would do anything for you!” his whinging turned into a shriek, eyes widening, pupils contracting. April snarled at him as he lunged.

The Nidoran opened his eyes as if waking from a dream. He blinked. Once, twice. He felt tiny droplets fall onto his face. How did he get here? Groaning, he rolled onto his side. His claws dug into softened earth on the ground. It held a nice smell, though it was laced with something he couldn’t place. It was somewhat sticky as he lifted his paw off the ground. Confused, he turned and checked his surroundings. What had happened? His memory was blurry. It was probably one of those crazy artistic fits he went into, when food and sleep did not matter, and all that was important was art. He shook himself, water flinging from his spiny back. Slowly he took one step, then another, dazed. Something was on the ground. And another thing. And another!

He followed it with his currently limited blurry vision. One mark, another. It made a trail. He waddled slowly to follow it until there was more and more, until it made a solid, unbroken line. So busy was he staring at the ground that he bumped into something, hard. He yelped in pain; the thing was solid and cold and wet. He looked up to see what it was.

April's face was pale and beautiful, spattered in the rain she loved so much. Her rich red paints were trickling with water and washing away. And her mouth was open in a terrified scream.