fire & ice
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The Epilogue.
Arms by Christinia Perri
dh;
I used to think that I was an exception: preferably, the total and utter exception to love. It seems silly and dryly humorous to look back at my previous adolescent memories: swings, skype, cell-phones, cliques, gossip, secrets, girls, comebacks, music, clothes—everything. Looking back, I thought I was hot shit.
Literally… I used to look in the mirror every morning before school, comment on how sexy I looked; wink in the mirror, then stroll out to my awaiting sports car. Life was so damn easy.
Then of course, Massie Block stumbled into the picture, dragging along a swirling abyss of endless clichés; with brown silky tresses, striking amber irises, a vibrant unforgettable smile, a humming laughter, quick disses, and tantalizing fingertips she was so damn perfect. Perfection at its finest.
Of course being young then, dares and bets were all that kept us Briarwood Academy kids intact. We were risqué asses that thought we were bosses.
There were always bets that led to one thing or another; usually resulting in the person who took the doubt, regretting their actions and/or getting sent to the principals for some mighty discussions (sometimes involving wicked punishments. i.e. no soccer practice + game suspension.)
I stood in the doorway of the doors that led to so many troubles, misjudgments, misconceptions, and a lot of other big 'm' words. But the most important M that struck me fascinated and unforgotten was Massie Block.
Of course standing in the hallways of Briarwood Academy for the first time in ten years would strike anyone to feel nostalgic. I shouldn't have been surprised—and I definitely shouldn't have had felt a dwindle of what people would refer to as 'the dropping of a heart'.'
Massie Block died on a Tuesday. It was Tuesday, April 3rd. My entire life seemed to play out in a very, very clichéd pattern. But the one thing that wasn't cliché about it was Massie's timed death, when it wasn't pouring acid rain.
It didn't rain when she died; I didn't even get to drop to my knees in the pouring rain and shout at the sky and God for cursing me with shitty luck, no, I was stuck with swallowing and promising to attend her funeral.
The funeral had been very short but like a good cliché classic, many, many people were there to pay their respects to the young sixteen-year-old girl who died a little too young.
Her parents took turns speaking with tears in their eyes; I swallowed any pride I had left and cried, but I wasn't alone. Danny Robbins, Cam Fisher, Kemp Hurley, Chris Plovert, Josh Hotz, Skye Hamilton and the hundreds of other Briarwood Academy stood in that sunny graveyard with tears leaking down their flawless faces.
Looking towards present day, I am now currently engaged to Skye Hamilton.
Sure anyone could think it's wicked that I'd date my ex-lover? Ex-girlfriend's best friend?
Sure.
But if only they were there one early April morning when Massie Block gazed into my eyes with the most sincere, heart-wrenching earnest look of sincerity.
"I'll always be there, even when I'm really not…" She had smiled her half-smile, sadness aching in frail paper-thin grooved cheeks.
"It's okay to move, D."
Our last kiss was one I can still feel on my lips, the lingering tingles from ten years post, the smile against our lock, the last final touch still hot on my skin.
"I love you, Harrington. But this talk is too serious," She had touched my cheek with her weakened bone thin hand.
The whisper of her I love you fresh and hot like a fingerprint; in fact, it was a fingerprint.
It was our fingerprint.
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Braced and hugging unguarded old friends, old familiar smiles, old familiar warming scents, warm unchangingly familiar touches.
Our ten-year school anniversary was just what no one expected, but rather presumed without a trace of doubt.
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"Hey, congrats," Claire Lyons hugged Cam Fisher with a familiar soft touch.
The touch left Cam Fisher tingle and smile like he was an adolescent boy again.
Dylan Marvil wrung her manicured piano-fingers tightly around intertwined fingers of Kemp Hurley; he looked down at her with adoring accepting brown irises.
Danny Robbins flashed a familiar comforting smile in Skye Hamilton's direction. She returned it with a delicate finger wave.
Alicia Rivera grinned a friendly heartbreakingly beautiful smile in Josh Hotz's noticed direction; presumptions already tagged.
And me?
Well I kissed the gray cool marble with soft lips, closed my eyes, and inhaled through my nose then exhaled out my mouth. My lips curved upwards in a familiar lopsided grin.
"I love you," I whispered to the wind.
In that silent moment, I knew she heard me because the wind danced circles around my kneeled body.
Motionlessly I placed a purple, custom dyed lily on her headstone.
The wind swirled a few more dances around me with a more quickly paced fluent force.
Yeah, she definitely heard me.
"I love you too."
fin.
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Thank you to everyone.
A huge shout out to:
This-is ignorance, Lost in Starlight3, glitteringlights, Cela Fille, KrazyInLove, Would-You-Go-With-Me, alicehart1234, .Faith, all the lost souls, person (who told me my story was named after a condom brand…awesome), alli amour, Jane Doe, ., Briony-Rose, found & lost, Brocklyn16, kangaruru, KatFrye, hana, gallghergrl 3, burning rainbows3, lovetheclique, WakeMeUpWhenItsYesterday, allie, AlwaysLightThroughTheDarkness, adrannaameii, DancingintheRayne, Millie, *all the anonymous, Alice, skyeblue221, Adie, ixdookiie, ChocoPrep, Ally, , luggfubf, mayesha1771, MissVanilla, Lily, Loviess, MassieLovesPurple17261, coolingDawn, I can't keep my eyes offa you, shortyshur, Skylar566, Sammyy, Ahjgr, Funny boo, FaithInMe, and falling through midnight.
Thank you to all of you, you guys made it bearable to write as frequently as possible—even when I didn't—thank you so much for making writing worth it.(:
If you liked this story, be sure to check out my spring project: "Fix me in forty-five"
That's all for now though! Cant believe this story is over…):
Hope the ending wasn't awful…
As always,
-another moment gone-