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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

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Do You Even Lift?

Hope you’re all staying healthy and physically isolating yourselves. Unfortunately, I can’t work from home so I’m still working most nights for the foreseeable future. Still, I know everybody’s stuck at home and looking for something to do, so I’m gonna try and post all the WIPs I’ve been sitting on for the past few months.

Here’s the latest chapter of the Spider Stan AU

* * *

Stan had no idea how to broach the subject of what he’d seen last night with Ford, so he asked a not-so-subtle question the next morning.

“So, uh, you had any weird dreams last night?”

Ford looked at him blankly. “No, why?”

“Uh…” Stan stammered. How was he supposed to answer that question? Remember my spider-sense that you hate so much? It went off again last night, so I snuck into your room and watched you sleep for like half and hour until I saw that weird triangle you have all over the house float out of your head.

“I, uh, thought I heard you talking in your sleep last night?”

“Really? What’d I say?”

“Pch… I dunno! You were all the way downstairs, I couldn’t understand what you were saying! Just heard some muttering through the floorboards with my, y’know, super hearin’.” Stan crossed his arms and looked away.

Ford shrugged. “No, it was a pretty normal night for me.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Their awkward breakfast conversation was cut short by the ringing of the phone. Ford scrambled out of his chair and down the hall to where the main-floor phone was kept. Stan could easily overhear Ford’s end of the conversation from the kitchen.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines… Ah, hello Fiddleford.” Stan couldn’t help but notice his brother sounded annoyed. “How is Emma-May? ...Mhmm… I--I’m glad to hear she’s ok. Oh, Stan and I are, surprisingly, doing very well. There have still been a few arguments but really, I think we’re getting along better than-- better than in a very long time… Look Fiddleford, I know… sigh… I know you want to spend more time with your family. You could stay over the weekend, if you want. ...Yes. I’m sure. Take your time. It--it’ll be good to have you back. ...Ok. See you Sunday night.”

Ford re-entered the kitchen with a conflicted expression on his face. “McGucket will be back on Sunday.”

“Oh. Good?”

“Why did that sound like a question?”

“Well, ya don’t seem too excited for him to come back.”

“I-- of course I’m happy he’s coming back, he’s my friend!” Ford replied stiffly. That conflicted expression returned to his face.

“Are you mad ‘cuz he lied about his wife bein’ sick?”

“I-- you-- you don’t know that!” Ford spluttered. “But… but even if I did learn that--that your assumption was somehow correct, that doesn’t mean-- it shouldn’t be-- that’s no reason--maybe… maybe he was right.”

“Wha?”

“It--it’s been nice, just spending time together again. Would… would you agree?”

Stan swore he felt his heart leap into his throat. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t look desperate! “Y-yeah.” he choked out with a noncommittal shrug.

“Maybe Fiddleford giving the two of us some space is exactly what we needed right now. We got along better yesterday than we ever did the preceding week. The preceding twelve years, really.”

Stan grinned. “See? Lyin’ can be for the greater good sometimes.”

Ford frowned. “I still believe honesty is the best policy…” he added under his breath, “except for when it’s not.”

Stan burst out laughing. Ford looked away sheepishly.

“What, you forget I have super-hearing already? We were literally just talking about it!”

* * *

After cleaning up the kitchen, the brothers returned to the storage room where Ford kept most of his spare inventions.

“Well, you’ve already tested out the anomaly filtration goggles, the web-shooters, and the--”

“Super hero costume.” Stan finished with a roll of his eyes.

“--high durability textiles.” Ford corrected with an annoyed glare. “Do you see anything else in here you’d like to try out?

“How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t even know what any of this junk does!”

“Well, is there anything you always wanted, when you were out on the streets?”

“Money.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t quite suppress the smile sneaking onto his lips. He’d walked right into that one. “Let me rephrase. Is there any kind of equipment or tool or skill that would have been helpful to you when you were saving people?”

“Huh…” Stan thought about it for a minute. One thing in particular came to mind. “Something to carry stuff with that’d still keep my hands free.”

Ford gave him a withering glare. “Some place to hold stolen goods?”

“Not all the time!” Stan defended. “Like what if when I ran into you and Mc-What’s-his-name there had been more guards and we had to make a run for it up the wall. I couldn’t carry you two and hold onto the gun I’d swiped at the same time, and I couldn’t just leave it there for some mook to pick up and start shooting at us.”

Ford looked at his brother in confusion. “Your parka has pockets, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, big, old pockets that things can fall out of very easily when you’re climbing directly up a wall. I tried sewing zippers on them once, but zippers are tricky. I almost ruined this coat, and the left pocket still won’t lay right. I tried usin’ a backpack a while ago, but it got stolen, and it was throwin’ me off balance when I climbed anyway.”

“Hmm… Ok. So it would have to be compact enough that it wouldn’t swing about while you climb.” Ford pulled out his Journal and began to sketch something.

“And y’know what? That reminds me of something else that’d be nice to have. Some sorta handle for people to hold onto or like, I dunno, a baby sling or something. ‘Cuz I’ve had to carry a lot of people to safety, and it’s way harder to climb a shear wall when you’re also tryin’ to carry even a little kid, let alone a grown man! This one time I saved a lady from a mugging by climbing up an office tower, and she nearly strangled me, she wrapped her arms around my neck so tight.”

“I think I’ve got an idea!” Ford flipped around his book to show Stan his drawing. “A belt, with different compartments to hold different supplies in. We could even incorporate a holster for any wayward guns. And of course, people could hold onto it--”

“I don’t want people pullin’ my pants down, genius.”

“Oh, right, of course. Then perhaps more of a harness? Hmm… yes, that could allow for more compartments.”

Stan looked at the sketch. “A utility belt? I’m not freakin’ Captain Nightshade!”

“A tool belt is a piece of equipment that people have been using since our ancestors first started fashinoing clothing out of animal skins.”

“That’s not what I’m complainin’ about. I told you, I’m not playin’ at bein’ a hero, Ford!”

“I never said you had to!”

“Then why’ve you got a logo drawn on it?”

Ford looked down at the little spider silhouette he had drawn on the belt buckle. “It’s just artistic license.” He folded his arms, as though that settled it. “Anyway, I had an idea for another test we can run. Grab the web-shooters.”

“Uh, I dunno if I’m ready for more trapeze stunts.” Stan scratched the back of his neck apprehensively.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground this time. I want to see how much weight this stuff can take.”

* * *

Ford led Stan out into the woods, not far from the house, where a large pile of squashed scrap metal lay rusting under piles of discarded pine needles. It looked like something that would come out of a trash compactor in a big junk yard, not something you would find in the middle of the forest.

“What is this?”

“This is what’s left of my old car. You remember Steve from yesterday?

“Ah.” That explained it.

Ford powered up the leaf blower he’d packed out and blew away the pine needles, revealing his squashed car. “Now, the idea is to attach a line to the frame of the car, loop over one of the thicker branches up there as a pulley, and see if you can pull the car up off the ground. It’ll test the limits of both your strength, and the strength of the web material.”

He picked up one of the web-shooters and tried to aim it up and over the thick branch he’d been thinking of. The line just sailed up over the branch and stuck to another tree a few feet away.

“Lemme see that, Sixer.” Stan took the web-shooter from his brother and strapped it around his wrist before climbing up the tree to the branch in question. He fired a line down on the car and then jumped back down to the ground, letting more webbing out slowly to lower himself.

“Oh. Thank you, Stan. I’ll just stand over here where there’s no danger of being crushed.” Ford retreated a couple of yards.

Once Stan had good footing, he grunted and started pulling at the line like it was a rope. It was hard, at first. The web line was thin and hard to get a grasp on, despite how sticky it was. But once Stan got a good grip and found a comfortable way to pull, he felt the car begin to give. With another strong tug, it lifted a few inches off the ground. Stan grinned as he heard his brother start laughing triumphantly.

“Yes! Yes, it’s holding! It’s perfect! How much of a strain is this on you?”

“Heh, just like liftin’ weights back in high school!”

“Wonderful!” Ford began scribbling in his Journal again. “Oh, weights! We need more weight.”

Stan released the line and the car crashed back to the ground. “You tellin’ me you nerds have a weight set hidden in that cabin?”

Ford laughed again. “No, but one Liter of water weighs about a kilogram. We can just fill up water jugs and put them in the car.”

“Kilo-what?”

“No, Stan, kilowatts measure electrical current!” Ford joked with a cheesy grin.

Stan punched his brother playfully in the arm. Ford winced and rubbed the spot, but he smiled back nonetheless. It was like they were teenagers again, working together on whatever experiments they could come up with.

They ran back and forth between the crushed car and the garden hose, filling up jug after jug with water. Each time they added another jug, Stan lifted it again. When they got to ten jugs, no more would fit inside the flattened vehicle without them falling out, but Stan could still lift it without much trouble. Ford got the bright idea to use the web fluid to stick more jugs to the car. They finally had to stop at 105kg, not because Stan could no longer lift it, or because the line had broken, but because they were out of water containers.

“Pfew!” Stan wiped his brow as he finished the last lift. “How much did that last load weigh in normal weight?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Pounds can hardly be considered normal weight when the United States is the only country that still uses them widely.”

“Fine, how much did I lift in abnormal weight?”

“Over 230 pounds of water, plus the weight of the car… I’d estimate around 1300 pounds! That’s over 300 pounds more than the current world record!”

“Haha! Yes! Eat it, world record guys! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

Ford chuckled and joined in the chant as they walked back home.

* * *

Things were going great. He and Stanford were finally getting along like brothers again! Which was why Stan was terrified to ask Ford about the triangle thing. Stan had a strong suspicion he wasn’t going to like the answer, and what if it led to yet another fight? Just because things were going better between the two of them now didn’t mean the situation wasn’t still delicate.

But he couldn’t just ignore it! His spider-sense had never steered him wrong before, and had in fact saved his life more times than he could count. If it was telling him something bad was happening to Ford, then he had to get to the bottom of it!

He was climbing the stairs up to the attic to go to bed that Friday when he finally worked up the courage to ask his brother a simple question.

“Hey Ford, could… could you tell me more about this thing?” He pointed down at the rug on the landing that had caught his attention his first night in the cabin.

Ford certainly looked caught off-guard by the question. “I thought you said it was creepy.” he finally replied icily.

“Well, yeah, but, you know me. I like creepy stuff.”

To Stan’s relief, this seemed to be the right answer, because now Ford was smiling like a proud mother hen and motioning Stan back down the stairs and into the library.

“This mysterious figure can be found throughout history! It seems to be the inspiration behind many great civilizations and secret societies.” Ford narrated as he pulled out a large file filled with depictions of the one-eyed triangle. “More specifically, it inspires one brilliant mind a generation to lead their civilization, their society, into a new era of enlightenment!”

“Ok, but what does it want?”

“What?” Ford responded in confusion. “I--I just told you, it wants to enlighten civilizations.”

“Yeah, sure, but what does the triangle guy get out of it? Does he wanna be worshiped? Does he get a cut of the profits?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about money, Stanley!”

“I know, I know, I was just jokin’ about the profits thing.” But he wasn’t joking about the worship thing. “But no one does anything for free! What’s this thing’s angle?”

Stanford just stared at his brother in disbelief. “You really have no concept of a selfless act, do you?”

“If this thing was selfless, it wouldn’t go plasterin’ its face, or symbol, or whatever it is all over!”

“You can’t assume he has any ulterior motives by just projecting human behavior onto a supernatural being!”

“And why are you so sure it’s some friendly ‘enlightenment’ giver?”

“Because I--” Ford’s expression suddenly went blank and his eyes drifted to some point behind his brother.

Stan turned around and saw nothing, but he did notice that same twinging spider-sense again. He suspected if he’d been wearing those special goggles right now, he’d see that same sickly yellow aura around his brother.

“Ford? You ok?” Stan asked. No response. “Stanford, snap out of it!” He went to snap his fingers in front of his brother’s face, but a six-fingered hand shot up and grabbed his own instead.

“Just a second.” Ford shushed him with a far-away, dreamy voice.

“Seriously, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“Shhsh!”

After a few more seconds, Ford gave a small nod before focusing back on his brother.

“Sorry about that, Stan. I… uh… I zoned out for a moment there.” He laughed weakly. “I think we both need to go to bed.”

Stan snorted as he watched his brother rush down the hall to his own bedroom. Stanford did have a tendency to zone out from time to time, but that was usually while he was caught up reading or studying or just staring into space, not right in the middle of an argument. And when Ford was zoning out, he wasn’t paying attention to anyone, so he certainly never had to shush anyone. It was almost like Ford had been trying to listen to something. But Stan had super-hearing, and he hadn’t heard a thing.

Unless… Stan remembered the triangle floating out of Ford’s head a few nights ago… Unless it was something Ford could only hear in his mind.

* * *

As Ford had hoped, he found himself in his mindscape almost as soon as he fell asleep, his muse floating before him. Which was good, because he really needed a word with Bill now.

“You disappear for four nights, only to show up while I’m awake again! And in the middle of a conversation, no less!” He made his annoyance clear.

“WELL EXCUSE ME, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED SOME QUALITY TIME WITH YOUR BROTHER!”

“I do, but that doesn’t have to exclude your night visions, does it? And that doesn’t excuse jumping into the middle of our conversation just to stop me from telling Stan about you!

“I WAS JUST LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, SIXER! YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING YOU’D REGRET LATER.”

Ford sighed. “You’re right, as always. Thank you. Letting slip that I have a literal muse in the middle of an argument certainly isn’t how I want him to find out. I need to find the right time to tell him.”

“I WOULDN’T RECOMMEND IT.”

“Please, Bill, I know Stanley can be a valuable asset in building the portal! We’ve been testing his strength, he can lift upwards of a thousand pounds! Immagine what he can do to help with salvaging parts from the alien ship or placing the superstructure frame!”

“LOOK, SIXER, IF YOU TELL YOUR BROTHER YOU’RE GETTING YOUR IDEAS FROM ME, AN OTHERWORLDLY MUSE WHO ONLY CHOSES ONE GREAT MIND A CENTURY, ONE OF TWO THINGS’LL HAPPEN. EITHER HE’LL THINK YOU’RE A NUT-JOB, OR HE’LL GET JEALOUS THAT YOU WERE CHOSEN INSTEAD OF HIM. AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO REMIND YOU WHAT A JEALOUS STANLEY IS CAPABLE OF.”

“... He says it was an accident.”

“WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY BELIEVE THAT. AND EVEN IF IT WAS TRUE, DID THAT SAVE YOUR SPIDERS?”

“... No.”

“THEN WE’RE AGREED! YOU’LL KEEP STANLEY IN THE DARK. ALTHOUGH, I GUESS WE COULD STILL USE HIM TO HELP BUILD THE PORTAL. THAT SUPER-STRENGTH SURE WILL COME IN HANDY!”

“Well, if you didn’t want Stan finding out, you shouldn’t have interrupted me earlier. Now he’s bound to be suspicious.”

“AW, I’M NOT WORRIED. A GENIUS LIKE YOU WILL FIGURE IT OUT, NO PROBLEM!”

Ford smiled. “Thanks, Bill, your confidence in me really does make me feel better.”

* * *

Stan wasn’t completely surprised when his spider-sense went off again just an hour after he’d gone to bed. It was the smallest period of time between warnings yet, but Stan was finally getting an idea of what this weird twinging spider-sense was trying to warn him of, so the frequency didn’t bother him. If it really was the triangle guy, then it made sense that he’d come back after whatever had happened to Ford earlier.

Now, what to do about it? Obviously, waking Ford in the middle of whatever was going on just made him mad. Was there a way to communicate with it? Catch it?

Stan had a dream catcher hanging from his rearview mirror in his car. He didn’t remember where he’d gotten it. He’d probably bought it to cover for all the actual valuables he’d stolen from some gas station or gift shop somewhere. He knew it probably wouldn’t work. It was just some mass-produced trinket, not a genuine article crafted by a Native American who knew what they were doing. But for the time being, Stan didn’t have any other options. It was worth a shot.

After grabbing the dream catcher, the web shooter, and the anomaly goggles, Stan crept into Ford’s room and dangled the cheap trinket over Ford’s head with a line of webbing. He didn’t have to wait nearly as long this time. After just five minutes, Stan saw the triangle float out of his brother’s head again. He was honestly surprised when the thing stopped half-way through the web. It started to struggle, like it was stuck. Just as Stan was about to reach out and grab it, the triangle guy just rose out of the dream catcher like it wasn’t even there. It stared directly at Stan. Despite the fact that it didn’t speak, and only had one eye for a face, it’s expression clearly read “Haha, just kidding. You actually thought that would work? Idiot.”

“W-wait, I just wanna talk!” Stan whispered as quietly as he could. Thankfully, Ford didn’t wake.

The triangle guy looked at Stan intently. And then disappeared.

Stan huffed in frustration and carefully cleared away all evidence that he’d been in his brother’s room that night. Well, that hadn’t worked. But he wasn’t going to give up yet.

* * *

JWZ CFAY PLVST EIQD, SCM? PPTQ, FLGGX T ENEW IWKLVLX QWW T WQYMWM HALB. N’EW PFOP BT VLTQ BY I KXH XFPYA KBCAY.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #SpiderStan AU #This jerk #Spider Stan AU #My Writing

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venussinclair3 · 3 years

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Fun While It Lasted

Disclaimer? I haven’t written in a long time so I’m a little rusty but yeah this is just something short that I kind of liked. Would really appreciate constructive feedback (please be nice I’m sensitive)! Should I continue this? Should I put it on Wattpad? Anyway, enjoy!

"You live next door yet you somehow always take forever to get here." She was laying in bed in a pink oversized shirt when he snuck through her window.

"Sorry, I was looking for my crayons." His hands were empty, "Couldn't find them. Can I use yours?" He plastered a large smile on his face because who could say no to such a cute face?

"This was your idea you know. How are you going to propose we draw each other and have no supplies whatsoever?" She said as she walked to the bookcase that stood in the back of her room. The third shelf was riddled with paintbrushes, sharpies, and crayons. She had meant to clean it last week but never found the time. Maybe she'll get to it next week.

"Because I knew my good friend Oasis would have my back." He jumped on her bed and took off his green converses before grabbing Bimbo.

Bimbo was as old as their friendship. Oasis had received the teddy bear on her fifth birthday, the same day he knocked down her birthday cake because he was running recklessly. She clung on to Bimbo as she cried herself to sleep that night and swore to hate him for as long as she lived.

There was a cake on the table when she went downstairs the next morning, "Blue's mom made it as a way of saying sorry about what happened yesterday." Her mother cut her a slice and gave it to her. It was better than she could have ever imagined. The chocolate cake covered in pink fondant danced in her mouth as the richness of the chocolate chips exploded. She hugged Bimbo tight while devouring the cake, deciding that maybe the little boy wasn't as bad as she thought.

Oasis dumped the supplies on her bed and sat across from Blue, her legs crossed, sketchbook in hand, "My drawing is going to be better than yours."

"Doubt it. I'm a genius." And he was. Straight A student since fifth grade, Blue was the smartest boy in his class. He won the science fair three times in a row and lied his way out of trouble all the time. He lied Oasis out of trouble too because she could never do it herself.

They both got to work, each with a different method: Oasis lightly drew an outline; Blue began working on her left eye. The sounds of the TV downstairs leaked into her bedroom. The Property Brothers were debating over which color they should paint the kitchen of a Nashville home they were working on. "I think the kitchen should be white" mumbled Blue, having started the right eye.

"What?" asked Oasis as she looked up from her sketch.

"Nothing. Where are your speakers? I wanna play some music." She pointed to the bookcase, second shelf.

"Don't play anything stupid."

"Why are your parents home?"

"No, I just don't want to listen to anything stupid."

He chuckled. Bringing the speaker onto the bed and connecting it to his phone, I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkeys enveloped them. They both began bobbing their heads.

They played this song when they snuck out for the first time. Oasis jumped out her window and was pretty sure she had broken something, but the adrenaline of defying her parents rushed through her body to numb the pain. By the time she reached the park and met up with Blue, the only thing on her mind was how much fun they were going to have at Mielle's party. And they did have fun. They danced, ate, and drank. She successfully snuck back home with Blue's help and fell asleep the second her head hit her pillow. What she had failed to consider was that the party was on a Thursday night, that her parents would never let her miss a day of school and she was a shit actress. She went to school hungover and was grounded for a month. Blue was company during her punishment.

"You have a really sharp jawline" Oasis stated. She had finally finished with the outline of his face. He looked at her and grinned, taking it as a compliment rather than an observation.

"Thank you, princess." Nothing got under her skin more than that nickname. They fell silent again, a silence she was comfortable with, but he wasn't. As he drew her nose, he begged for her to say something. Anything to convince him that she wasn't mad at him, that they were still friends, that she wasn't just tolerating him.

"Have you seen the new house yet?" Thank god. His prayers were answered when she raised the question so he spoke without thinking, "Yeah the new house is great! My room is way bigger and we even have a dishwasher, although I doubt my mom will even want to use it. She'll probably still make me wash them by hand because that woman hates me. Oh and the neighborhood is super nice and I met the girl next door. She's really cool. We've been texting and stuff.” His enthusiasm stung. Blue was moving to Chicago. He was moving 11 hours and 54 minutes away. And he was excited about it. And maybe she shouldn't take it so personally, but when her best friend was rambling about how cool his neighbor is and how he's been talking to her for a while, she couldn't help but feel as if she was about to be replaced. She faked a smile and said, "That sounds exciting. Can't wait to visit you in the summer." Oasis was a shit actress. None of what he said sounded exciting to her, "I'll miss you."

She added another hair stroke to his thick, straight eyebrows and refused to look up because she couldn't promise herself she won't cry. Blue didn't take her eyes off of her for a while. He stared at the way the corners of her round lips curved downward, making it look like she was always sad about something. "I just think it's stupid to move the summer before your senior year." He sighed, "Oasis." The tip of her ears got red as her name escaped from his lips.

The last time he had called her “Oasis” was two weeks ago. She had snuck into his room after he blew up her phone, crying that it was urgent. Each time he had told her that it was urgent, it never was. She hopped through his window to find him at his desk, two Surfer Cooler Capri Sun in front of him. "Oasis, I'm moving in two months." She stopped mid sip. Her brown eyes ran across his face, scanning it for any sign that could give away this sick joke. There was no sign. He was serious. Blue was leaving New York.

It wasn't fair to be mad at him for moving. It's not like he could say no. But she had to be mad at someone. She decided the universe was to blame. "Have you made your college list yet?" he asked in a weak attempt to change the subject. She looked at the way his red lips were slightly open as he anticipated her answer, " Not really. Community college or NYU or Howard. I don't know. You?"

"No idea either. Maybe an Ivy?" He knew he was Dartmouth material but he still sought her approval. He always had.

He went shopping with her right before the eighth-grade dance. They both didn't have dates so they decided to go together as friends. They walked into the Old Navy with "Sale" signs plastered in the front. She thought the signs were useless at this point because when were they not having a sale of some kind? He walked into the dressing room with several shirts out of his $20 budget, and once he had tried them all on, Blue marched to where she was sitting, impatiently waiting for him.

"You are not wearing that purple button up."

"Why?" He cried.

"It's going to clash with my dress and it's literally hideous." She walked back to the rack of button-ups and picked out a green dress shirt for him. "You look so much better in green." Green was his favorite color ever since. They dominated the dance floor at the event and she won a raffle for a Bosse speaker. They spent the next weeks dismantling rumors that they were dating.

"I already picture you thriving at MIT." They both chuckled. He reached for the black to start coloring in the curls of her afro; she reached for the orange to recreate his buzzcut. They fell silent again. "I'll miss you too." She offered him a small smile but that couldn't mask the sadness of her eyes. "We can still facetime and text every day," Blue offered.

"You know it won't be the same." He did know that but his hope lied in the fact that if he never said it out loud, it would be less true. "I take that back. You're more of a Cornell type." Another weak attempt at changing the subject but he went along with it, " I think NYU might be good for you. You'll get to stay close to your sister."

Moya was a prodigy. She began piano lessons at three, and seven years later she played at their aunt's wedding during the bridal entrance. "I think Moya will be fine without me. She'll get even more attention from my parents if I'm gone." The red of his lips was hard to replicate. It lay somewhere between crimson and cherry. "I'll miss that little devil. She promised she was going to compose me a song but never did."

"Pretty sure she had a crush on you." Blue burst into laughter so loud, Oasis barely realized that the album had started all over again and I Wanna Be Yours was playing. "Seriously?" He was in disbelief.

"Yeah, she would always ask when you were coming over and would try to hang out with us all the time."

He wiped the tear from the corner of his eye, "That's adorable." He added the finishing touches to her face: the scar on her chin that she got after he pushed her a little too hard and she fell, the beauty mark right above her lip, the curl at the top of her hair which she complained never behaved like the rest. "Finished." She said. She ripped the page from her sketchbook and walked to the bookcase once more. She grabbed two sheet protectors that were tucked between stacks of books and slipped the drawing inside. He did the same. She stared at the image of Blue, afraid that if she didn't memorize the details of his visage, he would walk out of her room and she would forget him. Forget the memories they created together. The secrets they shared together. She was afraid to forget how much she loved him.

He handed her his drawing and as she saw how he had captured her beauty with nothing but her color pencils, she said, "I'm coming to terms with the fact that we weren't meant to be in each other's lives forever. But it was fun while it lasted...right?"

#storytelling #fiction #writing dialogue #teenagers #love #painting #music #neighbours #ran out of tags

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