Post by lana2 on Oct 3, 2008 22:29:08 GMT -5
{{I swear, my best ideas occur in single, short bursts like this. Don’t ask where this came from, I won’t tell you. Just tell me what you think, okay? This was my first time really playing around with present-tense writing.}}[/i]
She blinks at him, wondering why he just gives it to her, even going as far as putting it in her bag. She doesn’t say anything about it, however. It isn’t until she starts walking home from school that she takes out the green pen, running the feather at the end through her fingers. She smiles softly, surprised that her guy friend – who also happened to be the boy she had a small crush on – had made the gesture.
Later that night at home, she thinks about the pen in her bag. Biting her lip, she goes to retrieve it. She sets it on her desk and pulls out a piece of paper. To her great surprise, it still writes. Not as smooth as she prefers in a pen, but it still writes. Due to the fact that her crush had often teases her and jokes with her, she had been expecting it to be useless.
The realization makes her spirits lift.
--{x}--
It isn’t for a few weeks that the pen is really revisited. She’s sitting next to him in history, writing something with the pen. He watches her for a moment, then speaks, apparently a little surprised. “You still have that?”
She looks up, slight confusion on her face in response to his question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
The boy blinks for a second, not saying anything. Finally, he shrugs and returns to his work. After a second or two, the girl does the same. The bell rings then, and before she can dash away like she normally does, he grabs her by the arm as they step out the door. He answers her previous question with one of his own. “Why would you still have it?”
“Again,” she says, a slight smile creeping on her face, “Why wouldn’t I?”
He frowns, absolutely serious. His expression surprises her. It’s rare he’s so concerned about something like this. And for a pen? Finally, he speaks. “Alright then, maybe because I expected you to forget about it and just not use it.”
Now she frowns. “I’m not sure what would make you think that.”
“Maybe because I would do that.”
She smiles. “I don’t doubt that.”
“Maybe.” He stresses, smiling again.
She laughs. “Too true. What would be the exceptions?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I don’t feel like answering that.”
“Maybe you don’t feel like answering or can’t?”
“Both.”
She chuckles, and the two make their way to their lockers. Once the two reach the hall where both of their lockers are located, their conversation is resumed. “So,” she says, “What’s the reason for the curiosity in the first place?”
He pauses for a second, before resuming packing his backpack. “I guess I was just curious.”
She seems skeptical, but says nothing. While she’s bent down to put a book into her bag, he reaches over and locks her lock where it hangs from the locker door. When she straightens, he’s gone and her lock locked. A frustrated sigh escapes her lips, but she smiles all the same, shaking her head as she unlocks the lock and locking the locker. She chases after him, managing to surprise him and get a good whack to his shoulder in before they get to their bus.
--{x}--
Finally, after a good two months, both of them get out of most drama mainly unscathed. They end up next to each other in the lunch line, easily striking up a conversation. “How’s band?” She asks jokingly, eyeing the instrument case in his hand.
He only rolls his eyes and grins. “Just fine. How’s announcing the football games?”
She grins. “Just great, thanks.”
He gives her a light shove, and eyes the pen stuck behind her ear. The light green feather immediately draws his attention. Without a word, he pulls it from her hair. Something like worry flashes in her eyes, but he doesn’t notice. “Does this still write anymore?” He asked, rolling it in his fingers.
She smiles and gently takes the pen from his hands. She then opens the binder in her arms, flipping to a blank page and signing her first name. She shuts the binder with a sense of finality and looks up at him, smiling. “How’s that?”
He only smiles and shakes his head, taking the pen back. Again, her eyes flash with loss. They walk through the line together, him making comments on her large appetite and huge sweet tooth. She’s about to leave the line, when a light touch makes her look back. The green feather is next to her, the boy just behind her. She looks at him. “Yes?”
“Here’s your pen.” He says, smiling, making just the smallest emphasis on the word, ‘your’.
It’s enough to make her smile and take the pen from his hands.
--{x}--
Not a week later, the two are in a tentative relationship no one expects to last long. The boy’s previous ones this year had last barely a week, if that. And her own were nonexistent. Too everyone’s surprise, each grows in confidence with the relationship, and the girl’s fears of losing hey boy’s friendship disappears. They’ve grown close enough that both of them know that not being at least friends would be impossible if they ever did separate. Which, by now, looked impossible. All of the doubters had also realized that maybe this would be the one relationship to last past high school.
Each get through high school and each sit next to each other at his kitchen table. Two stacks of envelopes sit on the table, and she tentatively reaches for her first. She starts to open it, and then thrusts it at him. “Ohh! I just can’t do it!” She exclaims, “Open it for me?”
He grins. “You know opening mail that isn’t addressed to you is a federal crime, right?”
He’s answered with a shove. “Okay, okay!” He exclaims, reaching for the envelope’s seal. “Which college is this one from?”
She closes her eyes. “Yale.”
He nods, remembering her agonizing over that essay in particular last year. He opens the envelope and removes the first sheet of paper. He grins, throwing the piece of paper down in front of her. “You got it.”
She squeals and practically tackles him in a hug. “Quick, open one of yours.”
And so they both go through each of their letters, and many squeals and hugs later, they both sit on the couch, watching a movie, content to just relax for now and leave deciding for a college for later.
--{x}--
They had an argument a few weeks later. She wants him to go to Duke, seeing as he can afford it easier and it’s closer to home for him. Of course, she’ll go with him. But he insists on her going to Columbia, like she’s dreamed of since she was in the seventh grade. The truth is, she’s scared. She doesn’t want t separate, and doesn’t want to lose the relationship they fought for so hard.
She finally just leaves for her own home. They both know they’ll have to face the issue later, but, for now, both are too close to breaking point. And breaking point for her never bodes well for anyone in her field of vision.
They both see each other in school, and the conversation between them is stiff. Not a week later, they put their relationship on hiatus. They both stress the hiatus, saying they’re just taking a short break. No one believes they’ll return from the hiatus.
And, in a way, they’re right.
--{x}--
They both go to college, he to Duke, and her to Columbia. And then they both decide to come back for the high school reunion. They see one another, but, by unspoken consent, call it truce and make small talk.
After a while, she sneaks out a notebook and starts writing. He arches a brow at her, and feeling his gaze, she looks up. “What?”
“Are you doing homework on a Friday?” He questions, his tone only half-serious.
She smirks. “Maybe,” she draws the word out, “but what’s it to you?”
“You’re my friend aren’t you?”
She gives him a long look. “Yes.”
“Then I’m looking out for a friend and making sure she isn’t overworking herself.”
“Writing is hardly overworking.”
“How much sleep did you get this week?”
He receives no answer, and he gives her a light shove. “You should know better than to deprive yourself of sleep.”
“I’m not depriving myself, I’m just not getting as much as I should.”
He gives her a stern look, which causes them both to break out in giggles. He notices there’s something different about her writing, then realizes the pen she’s writing with is a plain black one. She notices him looking, and gives a sad sigh. “It won’t write anymore.” She says softly, genuinely upset about the loss.
“Do you still have it?”
She smiles and nods. “It’s back in my apartment.”
He nods once and looks around at the gym, and back to her. “Talk about a bust, huh?”
She snorts. “You go that right.”
“Want to get out of here? Have some dinner as friends?”
She looks at him. “I’d like that.”
--{x}--
And she moves in with him not a month later. And it’s one morning that a light tickling sensation on her leg wakes her early one morning. “What?” She says groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“Look what I found,” he says in a sing-song voice.
She squints, then grins. She takes the green pen from his hands, rolling it in her hands. “Where was it?”
“In one of your boxes,” he says.
“Do you think,” she starts, looking up at him, a curious expression on her face, “Do you think maybe it may…”
She doesn’t finish. She grabs the steno pad lying on her nightstand and hastily flips to a blank page. She writes something quickly and passes it to him. He grins and writes a response. They go back and forth for a few seconds, a few laughs coming from her side.
Finally, she sets the steno pad down and wraps him in a hug. “I’m glad you gave it to me all those years ago.”
He hugs her back, smiling. “Same here.”
At work, she gets the sheet of paper laminated and hangs it in their room above their bed. When their children ask about it in later years, both parents just smile.How does it write? I swear, it wouldn’t a few years ago.
It’s a sign.
Of what?
That we shouldn’t have given up in the first place.
I love you. Always have.
I love you too. Always will.
{{Sappy ending! And I usually don't do fluff too easily...}}[/blockquote][/size]
