Sirius never liked the rain. He didn’t like the storm clouds or how the lighting and thunder was always louder than his music. He couldn’t block out the noise.
Sirius never liked the rain. He could never focus enough to actually write any music or even short rhymes for his songs.
Sirius never liked the rain. It didn’t give him any inspiration, all it did was make him sad and dull. No colour other than the grey sky and dark blue streaks.
Sirius never liked the rain. He was asked to sing at a funeral in a week. It was going to rain. He had no songs to play, but he couldn’t ever say no. Because one thing about Sirius is, that he hates saying no more than he hates the rain.
Sirius never liked the rain. It was supposed to be cold the day of the funeral. He didn’t know who exactly he was singing for, all he knew was that the boy was one year younger than himself. That for some reason, made him dread that day.
Sirius never liked the rain. That dreadful day came. He wore all black, his suit dark and silky. He arrived and it wasn’t sunny with no clouds, it was dark and gloomy. He sees the picture of the boy. That boy. Why does that boy look familiar?
Sirius never liked the rain. He didn’t like the way it fell down his face blending the tears with the falling water. How was he going to sing? That boy wasn’t just a boy. That was Regulus. Regulus adored the rain. Ironic.
Sirius never liked the rain, but Regulus did. Regulus was his brother. His only brother. The only family member he could tolerate at dinner. And he was lying in front of Sirius in a casket.
Sirius never liked the rain. He didn’t like the colours, the aesthetic, the noise, but he learned to love the rain as it now reminds him of the star that no longer shines just to him, but to the whole sky.