One shots (creative title, i know)

I wasn't expecting that. [Larry]

"Having a picnic."

"Why?"

He made an offended face, "I'm not allowed to have picnics with my best friend?"

"Not without a reason."

"Your seventeenth birthday's on the weekend, and I feel bad that I can't spend it with you, so we're having a picnic now. It's Part A of your birthday present."

I smiled at him (I think I saw his breath hitch and I think he was staring at my dimples for a second, but that was probably a figment of my imagination). "Thanks. That's really sweet of you." He smiled back at me, and our eyes met. Time stopped as we stared at each other. It was probably a few seconds, though it felt like hours. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue I've ever seen, and definitely one of my favourite colours. They looked just like the ocean on a bright summer's day. They were hypnotising. I wouldn't mind staring into them for the rest of my life.

A leaf drifted in between us, breaking the moment. He blushed, directing his attention to the picnic basket. He pulled out a tray of store-bought sandwiches, taking off the lid. He placed the tray between us, telling me to help myself. He pulled out a small fruit platter, taking off it's lid and placing it beside the sandwiches. "I made mum pack us a couple slices of cake for dessert," he grinned at me. I couldn't help but return it as I took a bite from my chicken, lettuce, and mayo sandwich triangle.

After we finished eating (including dessert), we lay on the picnic blanket. The sun was already starting to set, what with the time it took to get to Louis's house and then to the park, and then to eat while we were talking about everything and nothing. It cast us in a warm orange-y pink glow. I looked to my right, at Louis lying next to me, and my eyes widened. The steaks of sunlight coming through the slowly moving leaves above us were dancing on his face, casting shadows and highlights in all of the right places, somehow. His eyes were shut as he inhaled deeply. He opened them again, his ocean blue eyes taking in the rapidly darkening sky.

"It's beautiful," he stated, "I love sunsets. They simultaneously remind me of endings and new beginnings - that every end comes with a beginning, and every end and beginning is beautiful and scary in it's own way."

I tore my eyes away from his face, forcing myself to reply with something other than 'You're more beautiful.' I do not need that on my conscience today. Or any day within the month. Or year, for that matter. "That's strangely poetic. Who knew you had such a way with words?" I opted for casual banter.

"Exactly. I'm a wordsmith of sorts." He fought hard to keep a straight face but he cracked just after I did, laughing hard at himself.

"Who knew? Maybe you should become a scribe. Might force you to get better handwriting."

He swatted me lightly, "Ok, but just because yours is perfect doesn't mean everyone else's has to be."

I swatted him back, "You could at least try," I giggled, "Even Ms Tracker says your handwriting looks terrible next to mine."

He swatted me, a little harder this time, "Yeah, well, she's used to the calligraphy of the 1800s."

I playfully hit him even harder (but still not very hard), "She's not that old!"

He whacked my arm (not hard enough to hurt), "That's just because you're her favourite."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not!"

"You are!"

I sat up and hit his chest a little harder instead of continuing this little back and forth. We were both stubborn (we learnt that when we had an argument and wouldn't talk for three days), and if I didn't stop it, we'd probably argue until the stars were yelling at us to go home.