Bearclaw Valley snake oil

Evien dances on the in-between of summer and spring and Taylor is content to watch. He thinks, briefly, of a springtime rain. The ones you could see coming from a mile away, heavy and dark and inexorable. If you were standing in its way, close enough to see how thick the mist was, you only had two choices: to find shelter or to stand there and get drenched.
He had always let the storm soak him.
I love rain. Maybe the spring or the fall. He can easily see Evien thriving in that in-between and tucking in a flower behind that velveteen ear with the pollen sticky on his hands and his ankles thick with it. The thought at first drives euphoria into him, but it quickly decays into shame. Then the doctor moves in to touch his cheek.
Taylor's mind is just his thumb on his face. The dried blood pills up and falls off as dust. The fine muscles around his eyelids twitch and flutter. A soft and muted breath. Evien, I...
...hope you'll let me return the favor. You've helped me. A lot. Thanks. It sounds as if he meant to say something else but had changed his mind in the last possible moment. He feels full of pins and needles.