Just another short little thing I wrote based off a prompt.

"Let us…never grow up."

The fresh-faced boy looked at his companion.

"You already are grown up."

"Ah, but you aren't so let us retain that youth of yours." There was no answer. She smiled triumphantly as she swirled her glass of wine. Her triumph was short-lived however as his next comment changed the mood completely.

"I want to die."

The dark red drink splashed out as the glass was slammed onto the dark black table. He watched in fascination as it dripped over the edge, staining the fluffy white rug on the ground.

"You…you can't." She sat, ashen-faced, ginger curls trembling against her pallid frame. He frowned as he stared out at nothing, but did not answer. Tears were starting to fill her eyes.

"You can't. You can't! I won't let you, I won't!" She shrieked suddenly throwing herself onto the cold ground sobbing.

"The ground's dirty."

"I don't care! You can't, you hear me? You can't, you can't! I won't let you!" She continued, beating her pale white fists into a bloody mess on the hard dirt. Even then, she did not stop.

"Stop it. You're not a kid anymore." His voice was harsh, angry.

"And you're not an adult, you will never be!" He flinched, but his bright green eyes betrayed no emotion as he knelt down next to her, taking her hand gently. The other hand continued beating at the dirt.

"Promise me! Promise me that you're never gonna die!"

"Hey, hey. I can't anyways remember?
"Promise me. Or I'm going to drink a whole thing of hemlock. You said it's deadly right? I'll drink it and die a slow, painful death. I swear I will unless you promise!"

A troubled expression crossed his face and for a moment he was tempted to whisper for her to drink it. But finally, with a resigned sigh, he nodded.

"I promise," his voice was soft but even over her wailing she heard. Slowly her sobs subsided to soft hiccups. Her hands went limp then, one against the dirty ground, the other in his grasp and she merely lay there, exhausted. She barely even noticed her hands and knuckles getting bandaged up.

"I'm tired." She murmured sleepily.

"Go to sleep. It's okay." She nodded at his gentle voice.

"You'll…you'll be here when I wake up? You have to. You promised. You promised and now you can never go." Without waiting for an answer she curled up into a ball with a contented sigh. He frowned, tired himself. Who would be there when he awoke? She wouldn't be there forever; she was going to leave sooner or later. They all did and he could only sit there, promising over and over again that he wouldn't die.

Sighing, he got up and stared at the scene one last time before he left. What he wouldn't give for this beautiful scenario to be his own. He walked away then, leaving her curled up on the ground, knuckles bandaged and face tear-stained and red while behind her, the red liquid was still dripping onto the once-white rug.

Thanks for reading! My take on this old story is kind of dark and morbid isn't it? In any case, I hoped you enjoyed it. As always, reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated!