There's something between them that keeps the world going. She keeps a smile on his face, and he keeps her kite on a string. So she won't fly away. Leave them - leave him - and fly away forever.
Sometimes there are those days where you'll find them
hidden in the back of his car where they listen to his music and sometimes she'll find a song she actually likes, and replay it and replay it and replay it until he decides he can't hold onto the song anymore. And he always threatens that he'll take it off his soundtrack, but when the next time rolls around, it's always there. He doesn't tell her that he has a whole playlist dedicated to their backseat afternoons, just because she likes them.
'I just called, to say, I love you,' she crows at the top of her lungs, and when she looks over at him, he's got a bemused little grin on his face that so definitely says I love you but what the fuck are you doing.
'Dance with me,' she grins back, and he only shakes his head and she falls back with a pout and then they are the statue-still magazine couple again. Statue-still, but only because he keeps her on the ground when she thinks it's the day to fly away and never look back again.
And then there are those days where he'll be some place downtown, reading a paper as he drinks hot coffee inside glass windows, and he'll see a flash of something (just a something, not an anything) and it'll remind him of her. Because he's thoughtful like that, because he smiles when he thinks of it (of her) and he takes out his important papers and flips them over onto the blank side and draw it on, even though he'll most likely get into deep shit later for vandalizing them.
'Some day I'm gonna be gone, yeah?' She wistfully says as another plane sails overhead. In the park where they see everything, he wishes they wouldn't because then she wouldn't wish for everything. He just wants her to be there with him forever, but he knows it wouldn't make her happy. But oh,
it would so make his life if she only stayed a while longer.
When he stays out late because of office work he hasn't yet finished, she gets scared. She gets scared because her mind explodes into possibilities and because it's dark and she's alone, and she'd never tell him that she's afraid of night time (but he knows anyways and that's why he tries to finish up as quickly as he can).
And when he can't make it back, he sends her text messages at every chance he gets, with little messages and notes and things that make her laugh because he types them in as quickly as possible, so as not to get whipped by his demon boss, and so he makes so many typos. But he cares, and that's all that matters to her,
and God she loves him.
'I don't want to leave.' She says finally, when all her bags are packed and her plane ticket is in hand, and her jacket is on. They stare at each other.
'I don't want you to leave either,' he says, and pushes her towards the gate anyways. He doesn't want her to regret it. That kite needs to fly.
And maybe by chance he'll find it caught in a tree, and he can take it down from the gnarled branches. In her iPod, there's a brand new playlist downloaded from their backseat escapades, just in case she forgets. And all his old not-so-important papers, with the doodles on the back.
He watches with a twisted gut as she nears the doors, and then she turns around and takes a breath.
'I'll be right back,' she says and smiles and then she's gone. But he believes her, because she's the one who makes him smile, so it's only fair that he loosens his tight grip around her kite strings. And after all,
they're the ones who keep the world going.
sorry for being dead. ):
it's spring break, but i've been taken over by the lazy monster.
got the next chapter of plastic kind of beautiful nearly done, might post it this weekend. :)
Prompts: the songs: here in your arms - hellogoodbye , i just called to say i love you - stevie wonder.