Pairing: Any. I never say specifics. I had two or three running through my head while I wrote.
Genre: Fluff? Nostalgia? General plot fail?
Summary: You are kids and it’s summer and the days seem so long but August is rushing toward you at lightning speed.
A/N: Written listening to the “Maybe I’m Dreaming” and “Ocean Eyes” albums by Owl City. I think they are the best summer albums~
The lot wasn’t very big. It was about half an acre, give or take a few yards. It was closed in on three sides, and most of a fourth, by tall hedges and privacy fences. The only gap in the wall led down a shaded alley, again bordered on both sides by high fences. At one time, a house must have stood in the lot with the alley as its graveled front drive, but the suburb that sprung up around it choked it until it died. Now all that stood of the house was a cracked concrete slab that was the foundation and was now mostly covered in grass and moss. The alley was overgrown with weeds, but a worn path down the middle remained. The lot became a favorite playspot for the neighborhood’s children. Forgotten balls and bats and mitts lay about in the grass and the old foundation was coated in faded chalk.
That’s where you lay, stretched out on that multicolored concrete, staring up at the sky. And it’s Blue, not blue. Blue like you’ve never seen. Bright and so beautiful that it almost hurts to know how far away it is. How out of reach it seems. How hopeless and lonely it seems, way up there and you are stuck down here. Now and then, small puffs of marshmallow clouds float across its grand face and you watch them, head not moving, but eyes tracking their dances until they disappear behind a fence.
It’s after watching one such cloud that a shadow falls over you. You look up and find him standing over you. He’s got sunglasses on, so you can’t see his eyes, but his eyebrow is quirked up and a smile plays at the corner of his lips.
“Are you ready to go? The movie starts in half an hour.” He must have seen the disappointment flash across your face because he drops his keys and plops onto the ground beside you. He lays back and catches your eye. “There’s another show at nine if you’d rather go to that one.” You smile and scoot closer to him, resting your head on the arm he offers as he bends his other arm behind his own. The two of you used to play here as kids. But, you muse, you still are kids.
You are kids and it’s summer and the days seem so long but August is rushing toward you at lightning speed.
He is two years older than you and is getting ready for his first year of college while you’re stuck back in high school and it hardly seems fair. He chose a university just downtown so you could still see each other whenever you wanted but an ugly part of you wants him to attend class in your living room so you never have to part.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you whisper. The two of you have talked about his imminent departure time and time again and you don’t want to bring it up again.
“I haven’t been back here in ages,” he says. He pulls his cap, a stupid black thing that you bought him years ago, over his already shaded eyes and settles back again.
“I just thought of it while I was waiting for you and I really wanted to come here.”
“I’m surprised it isn’t crawling with kids.”
“It was until a little while ago. Your ugly face must have scared them away.”
“You’re a brat,” he says but he tugs you closer so your head rests on his chest. You’re sad that your view of the sky is limited. Instead, you find your gaze wandering along the long grass that has grown unchecked. A bird flutters down, not too far from where you lay, and begins to peck at the cracks in the concrete. You watch it and think that you understand how it feels. Searching for something just out of reach. Trying so hard take what should be yours.
“Now what are you thinking about?”
You laugh, loud and sudden. It scares the bird away and you feel the knot in your chest loosen and fly away with it. “Nothing,” you tease.
“You’re being too weird today.” He rubs a hand down your back and you cuddle closer.
“I’m just happy.” As the words leave your lips, you realize how correct they are. You are happy. You’re happy you are here. You’re happy he is here. You’re happy you both are here. In the hidden lot where you first met on a warm, midsummer day just like this one. When an older kid pushed you out of the way in his mad haste to make it to second base while you were chasing a butterfly. You collided with him and he laughed at you for being clumsy and teased you for crying at his words. You were only five at the time and old wounds were soon forgotten when he shared a half-melted chocolate bar with you on the exact spot the two of you were now laying.
The two of you stop talking and just enjoy the late afternoon sun in silence. His arm around your waist starts to loosen and you know he’s fallen asleep. You don’t bother to wake him up. You rest your ear over his heart and close your own eyes. The slow thumping lulls you to sleep.
When you wake, it’s to the shrieking of children and the barking of a small dog. You jerk awake and find that you’re curled in his lap. He must have woken up and moved you. The lot is alive with children again, now that the sun has set and lightning bugs are twinkling in the grass like fallen stars. You stand up and offer a hand to him. You yank him to his feet and you head to the gap in the fence, his hand still warm around yours.
“If we hurry we can still make the movie.” You say this, but you are distracted by a bug that flies close to your nose. You turn and watch it fly off while he pulls you along behind him. He stops and you bump into him. He laughs and grabs you around the waist, lifting you a few inches off the ground and spinning you around. He tosses you to the grass of the alley and grins down at you.
“We can go tomorrow. You’re too distracted tonight.”
You would argue, but that pesky bug is back and you scramble to your feet to chase it. You manage to trap it in your hands and you peek at it. He grabs your wrists and brings your cupped hands down so you both can see. You uncurl your fingers and after a few seconds, the glowing bug takes flight again. It flies straight into his face and lands on the brim of his hat. You lean in to brush it away but he leans in for a different reason entirely.
His lips are soft against your own and you smile into the kiss. It’s short and sweet and perfect, you think as you pull away. His eyes seem to mirror your thoughts and you can’t help but kiss him again.
He takes your hand in his again and leads you down the long alley. He catches your forlorn glance back and promises to bring you back tomorrow.
I'm curious to know who people picture for this.