It's All Real
one/one
He was real. She had a hard time believing it sometimes, because it seemed so fucking impossible. How could he be there? What had she done to deserve this? The best questions, she decided, were the ones that were impossible to answer. It was all so wonderfully miraculous.
She hated to close her eyes at night. She was scared that when she opened them, he wouldn’t be there. That he had been just a figment of her imagination. So, at night, when it reached the point where she was yawning every other minute, he would force her to go to sleep, and he would sit in the chair across the room and hum her lullaby. It was soft and perfect, sending her off into a deep dreamy sleep every single night.
And when she woke up in the morning, somehow, he was still in that same chair, smiling at her, or reading a book.
Once, she asked him how early he got up, and he smiled and said it was none of her concern. Then she asked if he ever went to sleep, and he laughed and said of course. Then she said that he should worry about her so much. He laughed again and said that worrying about her was in his nature, and that she should stop asking so many questions. She shook her head and walked downstairs then, a smile painted gently on her lips.
When she reached the kitchen, she screamed in surprise. Two gifts, and big one and a small one, sat on the table. When he came down the steps she asked him what the fuck was with all that stuff, and he laughed again, telling her to open it. So she did. It wasn’t anything fancy – nothing luxurious and worth millions, but it was perfect. She laughed, and pulled it out. “Best friend bracelet?” she questioned.
“I made two,” he said proudly. She laughed again and he took it and put it on her. She put his around his wrist and they compared the colours of it, laughing at how he misspelled friends on accident.
“I’m taking you out for dinner, too,” he said, pouring a bowl of cereal for the both of them. “It’ll be nice, all the guys won’t be there.” She stared at him curiously for a little while, before taking a bite of the cereal. They continued small talk for a while, and finally, he told her to open the big present.
“If it’s a dog, I’ll kill you,” she warned. He laughed.
“It’s not, Kristen, I promise. Now shut up and open it.” She unwrapped the big box eagerly, finally reaching the cardboard, and tearing it open. When it opened the entire way, she stared blankly.
“You got me Styrofoam peanuts?” she asked flatly – yet not disappointed. It wasn’t unlike Pete to do something so ridiculously silly. She ran a hand through her hair, the bracelet making a musical noise as it came down her arm, while she waited for him to answer her question. He grinned.
“Just dig around a bit, Kristen, and quit being so impatient.”
“I’m not impatient,” she growled, licking her lips. “I’m just curious – Jesus, you packed this thing to the brim,” she muttered, throwing some of the Styrofoam aside. He smirked, and let her continue mumbling as she dug through the box. Finally, she reached the bottom, and gasped again.
“It’s… it’s so pretty,” she marveled, voice faltering. She touched her fingers to it – gently, she was afraid it might break under her touch.
“It’s nothing much,” he whispered, as she lifted it up out of the box, more of the Styrofoam falling to the kitchen floor. It glinted in the sunlight.
“Nothing much,” she snorted, “Peter, how much did you pay-“
“None of your concern,” he cut off softly. He lifted the necklace up out of the velvet box, and lifted her hair up, putting it on. The necklace sat on her chest beautifully, the crystal glinting in rainbow colours off it every time her breath caused her to move up. She felt special, all the sudden; she felt important, wanted, needed.
Was this real? she wondered.
She looked up at her best friend, her saviour, and touched his hand, curling her fingers into his. Her lips curled up even further, and her eyes shined with happy salt-water tears.
Yeah, it was all real. Yes, he was real. And she had no problem with celebrating her birthday with him. The perfect birthday, her mind echoed, as she threw her arms around him, giggling like a bubbly three year old, having never felt better.
“Happy Birthday, Kristen,” he said happily.
“You’re real, Pete. It’s all real,” she grinned, and whispered a thank you.
She hated to close her eyes at night. She was scared that when she opened them, he wouldn’t be there. That he had been just a figment of her imagination. So, at night, when it reached the point where she was yawning every other minute, he would force her to go to sleep, and he would sit in the chair across the room and hum her lullaby. It was soft and perfect, sending her off into a deep dreamy sleep every single night.
And when she woke up in the morning, somehow, he was still in that same chair, smiling at her, or reading a book.
Once, she asked him how early he got up, and he smiled and said it was none of her concern. Then she asked if he ever went to sleep, and he laughed and said of course. Then she said that he should worry about her so much. He laughed again and said that worrying about her was in his nature, and that she should stop asking so many questions. She shook her head and walked downstairs then, a smile painted gently on her lips.
When she reached the kitchen, she screamed in surprise. Two gifts, and big one and a small one, sat on the table. When he came down the steps she asked him what the fuck was with all that stuff, and he laughed again, telling her to open it. So she did. It wasn’t anything fancy – nothing luxurious and worth millions, but it was perfect. She laughed, and pulled it out. “Best friend bracelet?” she questioned.
“I made two,” he said proudly. She laughed again and he took it and put it on her. She put his around his wrist and they compared the colours of it, laughing at how he misspelled friends on accident.
“I’m taking you out for dinner, too,” he said, pouring a bowl of cereal for the both of them. “It’ll be nice, all the guys won’t be there.” She stared at him curiously for a little while, before taking a bite of the cereal. They continued small talk for a while, and finally, he told her to open the big present.
“If it’s a dog, I’ll kill you,” she warned. He laughed.
“It’s not, Kristen, I promise. Now shut up and open it.” She unwrapped the big box eagerly, finally reaching the cardboard, and tearing it open. When it opened the entire way, she stared blankly.
“You got me Styrofoam peanuts?” she asked flatly – yet not disappointed. It wasn’t unlike Pete to do something so ridiculously silly. She ran a hand through her hair, the bracelet making a musical noise as it came down her arm, while she waited for him to answer her question. He grinned.
“Just dig around a bit, Kristen, and quit being so impatient.”
“I’m not impatient,” she growled, licking her lips. “I’m just curious – Jesus, you packed this thing to the brim,” she muttered, throwing some of the Styrofoam aside. He smirked, and let her continue mumbling as she dug through the box. Finally, she reached the bottom, and gasped again.
“It’s… it’s so pretty,” she marveled, voice faltering. She touched her fingers to it – gently, she was afraid it might break under her touch.
“It’s nothing much,” he whispered, as she lifted it up out of the box, more of the Styrofoam falling to the kitchen floor. It glinted in the sunlight.
“Nothing much,” she snorted, “Peter, how much did you pay-“
“None of your concern,” he cut off softly. He lifted the necklace up out of the velvet box, and lifted her hair up, putting it on. The necklace sat on her chest beautifully, the crystal glinting in rainbow colours off it every time her breath caused her to move up. She felt special, all the sudden; she felt important, wanted, needed.
Was this real? she wondered.
She looked up at her best friend, her saviour, and touched his hand, curling her fingers into his. Her lips curled up even further, and her eyes shined with happy salt-water tears.
Yeah, it was all real. Yes, he was real. And she had no problem with celebrating her birthday with him. The perfect birthday, her mind echoed, as she threw her arms around him, giggling like a bubbly three year old, having never felt better.
“Happy Birthday, Kristen,” he said happily.
“You’re real, Pete. It’s all real,” she grinned, and whispered a thank you.
♠ ♠ ♠
<3