Reverberation - Guns N Roses Fanfiction

FOURTEEN - the rink

September 29th, 1991

And so we carried on that way for a while. Gentle, sweet caresses; thoughtful, caring actions. It was good—as close to perfect as imaginable, actually. When I asked myself how that was possible, I came up with a few answers.

First, my schedule made sure we didn't see too much of each other lest we grow tired of one another's company (which I couldn't foresee in the near future, but I supposed it wasn't impossible).

My other reasoning was that we were just so compatible. Like when we would walk through a record store, picking up various albums, and ask what the other thought of the band, it was rare that our opinions differed. Choosing what to have for meals, what movie to watch, which radio to listen to, or what to do that day was never a hassle because we always found an easy route to agreement.

Sometimes we seemed so connected that it scared me. Even with the few things we disagreed about, we respected the other's belief or feeling. Because we understood each other.

I felt such a deep understanding about his thinking, mannerisms, and point of view that I startled myself with each realization that said: I want to feel like this forever.

"What're you thinking about?"

I looked away from gazing dreamily out the living room window, a spoonful of cereal hovering in front of my mouth. I took the bite, and mumbled as I was chewing, "Stuff."

Izzy smirked and looked down.

Once I'd swallowed, I asked him, "What are you thinking about?"

He smiled at me but just shook his head.

"What is it?"

"You should know by now."

I crinkled my brows slightly.

He laughed a bit. "It's you. I'm thinking about you."

Something like embarrassment—or maybe contentedness and belonging—reddened my cheeks. "Oh?"

"Yes," Izzy tilted his head as he watched me squirm. "So, tell me, what were you really thinking about?"

"You," I told him quietly. "It's always you."

-

I had the day off, so we went for a drive to Sussex again, but this time for something different.

"Skating."

"I haven't been on skates since..." Izzy paused, his brow furrowing. "I can't even remember. When I was a kid, I guess."

I couldn't contain my excitement as I pulled into a parking space on the side of the building. I had played dozens of games here when I was in hockey during junior high, and every memory was coming flooding back.

The dark metal front doors weren't just doors, they were the entrance to a tidbit of my adolescence. They opened to reveal salt stains on the carpet from countless little feet pattering across it in wintertime; anxious but excited, eyes glowing and wide with wonder while watching the older teams as they played. Memories of something more innocent, more fun, more content, than the life of any adult.

We entered the building, my skates in tow, and went to the front desk to inquire about getting a pair for Izzy. Once we had those rented, we went to the changing room to put them on and set about getting on the ice.

I laced up quickly and helped him tie his properly, my fingers clumsy with anticipation. I hadn't skated for a very long time, and the excitement was electricity in my veins.