Remembering You [Folive]

1| a lover and a stranger in the same day

ATTENTION : THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN IN 2019 AND IS NOT EDITED AND ITS SHORT.

ONE

The day Fletcher Quimby became a stranger to Olive Doyle was supposed to be one the most exciting times of his life.

It was a hot, summer in San Francisco, the kind where your t-shirt sticks to your back, Olive Doyle lugged in a stack of boxes in her arms into an apartment. She bent down to set the boxes in the middle of the wood floor. When she straightened her back, she nearly lost her balance because the scorching heat mixed with carrying heavy boxes full of dish ware made her exhausted. Olive wobbled to the apartment door and peered down the hallway.

"Fletcher hurry up," she hollered. Her boyfriend was a small figure pushing a large box down the hallway. Gradually he came closer to the apartment, forehead and chest drenched with sweat. He leaned against the box, panting like he'd just ran a marathon.

"Interesting factoid," Olive announced with a hand on her hip and a smirk as she stood in the doorway. "You're slow."

Fletcher just stared at her with a "are you kidding me?" expression on his face. His nose flared as heavy breaths came out his mouth. Olive's smirk turned into a smile and she laughed.

"Come on, I'll help you bring the rest," she said, helping him drag the box into the apartment. Forty, exhausting minutes later, Olive and Fletcher managed to bring up all of their stuff from Fletcher's car into the apartment. Granted, they still needed a couch, a television and both of their beds, but that required more than four hands. As soon as the last box was placed down, the couple went to the small living room and crashed on the carpet on their backs.

"If someone would have told me that I would be moving out of my parents' house at twenty one, into an apartment with Olive Doyle, I'd laugh them right out of the country," Fletcher said, staring at the ceiling.

"You've always been a mommas boy haven't you?" Olive recollected, looking over at Fletcher. He rolled his head to the side, meeting her eyes.

"Not just that," he explained. "You and I hated each other in our teens."

Olive raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit exaggerated?"

"How many times did you slap me?" Fletcher noted.

"Point given," Olive said. "Well congratulations, we beat the odds."

Fletcher grinned, throwing his arms up. "Wahoo!" he cheered. He gave Olive a charming, closed-mouthed smile. "I hate you," he told her with intensity in his hazel eyes.

"I hate you too," echoed Olive with a matching smile. It was their thing. They both calmly sighed, finally recovered from the exhaustion of moving their belongings up and down the apartment stairs.

"Hey I'm going FaceTime Chyna and tell her we got all our stuff in here. Maybe give her a tour of the place," Olive told Fletcher as she pulled herself off the ground.

Fletcher sat up and hugged his knees. "Alright, I'll probably unpack some stuff."

Olive smiled at him, then went to an empty bedroom to call Chyna. Meanwhile, Fletcher had some time to relish on the new apartment. Even though it was pretty much empty, he looked around the space and admired it. The kitchen had a dark brown, rustic looking wood flooring and a small marble top island in the center. He imagined a comfy couch, spacious enough for the both of them, but cozy enough for them to cuddle up, in the living room. He could already picture a Christmas tree in the corner which he and Olive would decorate when December came as the season's festive music filled the apartment.