Pieces of Forever

Couple: Sarah-Jane and Gerard

Prompt: Was there even one? I can’t remember...oh right. Ferris Wheel.

Title: Of Falling Fears and Forever Trust

For Ashelyn. Now I remember who this was for.

“No.”

You don’t believe it. You can’t. The part of your brain—the small part—that isn’t screaming NO! is wondering who abducted your boyfriend and replaced him with this...this nut, who is insisting you ride the Ferris Wheel with him. Has he just forgotten about your paralyzing fear of heights? Or had he just turned into an inconsiderate jerk while you weren’t looking? At the moment, you’re leaning towards the latter.

“Gerard...I can’t. I want to, you know that. But I just can’t.”

God, you sound like a five year-old. Gerard, who has yet to say anything following his (completely ridiculous) proposition, continues to simply gaze at you. His eyes; such a deep, inky blue that they appear almost black, burn bright in the twinkling glow of the fairy lights strewn around the fairgrounds. The fair—the Let’s Celebrate a Whole Year Without a Drought Fair—was your idea.

You haven’t been to one since you were nine, and this, nine years later, would be your last for a very, very long time. Somehow you doubt Columbia University held many campus county fairs. And so you dragged Gerard; friend, neighbour, and for the last three years; boyfriend, to the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Merry-go-Round, bought cotton candy and mini doughnuts, playing every game—usually failing but having fun anyway—and soaked in the experience. But now the night’s coming to a close, and it’s time to go home.

The rational side of you is pointing out that Gerard, being the sweet boy that he is, hasn’t uttered a single complaint or demand all evening, and it’s the least you can do to grant him this one request. But the other, irrational side of you, (that seems to be winning) is bucking the idea as hard as you can.

“Sarah-Jane...” Oh no. He’s using the voice. The silky, velvet, compelling little voice that you’re not sure he even realizes exists—and the voice that reduces you (somewhat sad and pathetically) to a tiny puddle of mush. So much, in fact, that you’re barely aware of the “Fine” that slips from your lips.

-

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God...”

You’re freaking out. Well actually, you’re more of a complete and total basket-case, but who's really paying attention? Not you, of course. The Ferris Wheel isn’t terribly old, and so the seats are actually quite spacious. You’re just too busy clutching Gerard’s arm for dear life with your eyes squeezed shut to appreciate them.

Suddenly the groaning metal stops, and it’s only after almost a minute of nothing but dim fairground noise that you figure out the ride’s stopped. And there goes your heart.

“We stopped. Why did we stop? Oh my God we’re going to die—”

“Hey now.” Gerard cuts into your panic attack with what sounds way too much like amusement. “We are not going to die.”

“How do you know?!” you practically screech, cracking one eye open only realize that you’re up as high as can possibly be and snapping it shut.

“Because I paid the operator to stop the ride.”

Beat. Beat.

“YOU WHAT?”

Your scream seems to echo for miles. You take one hand and slap your boyfriend as hard as you can, but it shakes the seat, so you settle for killing him later, a small whimper escaping your lips. Gerard chuckles lightly (he is so going to get it) and disentangles his arm from your vice grip to pull you close.

“Do you trust me?”

You really want to deafen him with a “NO!” but a sighed, defeated “Yes,” is what comes out instead. His arm reaches all the way across your back, and his right hand is soon finding yours and lacing your fingers together.

“Open your eyes.”

Beat. Beat.

“I can’t.” You sound small and broken and pathetic. You hate it. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of falling.”

His grip tightens around you, and a moment later you feel his free hand brushing your cheek. “I’d never let you fall,” he says softly but surely, and suddenly tears are welling up behind your eyelids and you have no choice.

The sight of dozens of lights streaking across the sky is glorious. The meteor shower. You’d forgotten. A smile dances across your face as Gerard brings his lips down to yours. It’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever tasted.

“Make a wish,” he whispers, running affectionate fingers over your forehead and brushing your bangs from your face. So you do. You wish for this moment on this once-in-a-lifetime night with this one-in-a-million boy on this not-so-scary-Ferris Wheel to last. Forever.

Author’s Note: Chokes a little on the fluff. Yeah. I’m not...up to par. It’s been a rough couple of months. Sorry.

Annie