“I’m going to miss you so much!”
Your mother’s blubbered words were followed by a high-pitched wail as she pulled you in for yet another spine-snapping hug. You struggled to breathe but allowed your mother to squeeze the oxygen from your lungs for as long as she wished. After all, who knew how long it would be until you saw one another again?
Your father, embarrassed but not surprised by your mother’s emotional scene, spoke up, his usual soft voice barely heard above your mother’s gasping sobs. “Come now, Darling. (Y/N) will be perfectly alright, won’t you sweet-pea?”
You managed a thumbs up in response, unable to verbally confirm as your face was currently in the process of being devoured by your mother’s cleavage. Your mother sniffles, a loud and mucus laced sound, making you cringe as you wonder just how much snot is nestling deep into your hair.
“Darling, please. She’s going to miss her flight at this rate.” Your father attempted to pry you free, but there was no escaping her suffocating, love-filled grip of death. She reminded you of an anaconda in that way. The more you struggle, the stronger her hold becomes. The only way out of such a predicament was if she willingly chose to grant you your freedom, but that seemed liked wishful thinking at this point.
After a few more minutes of gentle coaxing, your mother slowly, reluctantly, slackened her hold, opting to cradle your cheeks instead. “Promise you’ll call the minute you land.”
“I promise,” you say, gently removing her hands and accepting the fully packed suitcase your father holds out, while slinging a backpack onto your shoulder.
A monotonously stale voice sounded over the P.A system, informing you that it was time to board. Your mother appeared ready to snatch you up again, tears falling down her long and narrow face, but luckily your father kept a firm grip on her elbow, preventing her from making any sudden movements.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.” You smile and wave goodbye, walking backwards towards the boarding gate where a long line of impatient flyers had already gathered. “I love you guys!”
“Love you too, sweet-pea!” Your father grinned, though it was rather strained. No doubt from struggling with restraining your mother, who squirmed about in his arms like a millipede that recently caught a face full of bug spray.
The gate personnel accepts your ticket with a typical ‘I-hate-my-job-but-I’ll-make-it-look-as-though-I’m-making-an-effort’ type of smile. Making your way down the ramp towards the plane, you can faintly hear your mother yelling that she put a few extra pairs of underwear in your suitcase, just in case.
>>>>Fast Forward>>>>
Your backpack rested atop your head, acting as an umbrella as you stumbled awkwardly up the driveway to your temporary home. You hadn’t anticipated torrential rain, having heard that Primrose Island was, and you quote, ‘the sunniest island you’ll ever step foot upon’, so you neglected to pack accordingly. You only prayed that your iPod was tucked away somewhere safe from the water now soaking through your bags.
You raised a fist to knock, only to have the door swing open before you got a chance. Baby blue eyes blinked rapidly in mild surprise, before widening in recognition. “(Y/N)? Oh my God, I hardly recognise you. Look how big you’ve gotten.”
“It’s been a while,” you agree with a small smile.
A while was an understatement really. It’s been eight years since you last saw each other, and the once chubby cheeked girl you used to play with was now a beautiful young woman working as a researcher for one of the largest and most prominent corporations in the world- Abstergo Industries, if memory serves you right. That’s probably how she was able to afford such an expensive looking house, which she shared with her boyfriend of three years, Desmond.
Pretty pink lips curled into a smile. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”
The door shut behind you once you were fully inside. “Thanks for letting me stay here, Lucy.”
“Hey, how could I ever say no to my favourite cousin?”
Lucy disappears down the hallway, leaving you shivering by the door and taking in your surroundings. The place certainly is very…white. White walls, white floorboards, white furniture, all with a few splashes of red, black, and grey tossed here and there. Seems they’ve chosen to go with the typical ‘modern’ interior. Hopefully your room will be different. You don’t think you’ll be able to last the next few weeks without going insane if you’re forced to be surrounded by so much white.
A blur of colour emerging from the kitchen – you suspect it’s the kitchen anyway – detracts your attention from an odd, near supernatural, looking golden sphere placed atop the hall table. The blur of colour narrows its eyes at you, like you were some sort of foreign entity that shouldn’t be there, before swallowing a mouth full of food.
Its eyes sweep over your dripping form, lingering on the puddles beginning to form on the hardwood floor around your feet. “It’s raining,” it says simply, slipping another Dorito into its mouth and crunching noisily.
You regard it with mock-incredulity. “Oh, is that what that water falling from the sky called? And here I was thinking you were nothing but a pretty face, Desmond.”
Desmond smiles, flipping an imaginary lock of long hair over his shoulder. “You think I’m pretty, (Y/N)?”
You fold your arms across your chest with a scoff. “Pretty ugly.”
“Ouch.” The smile on his face slides into a smirk and he holds out the crisp bag.
“Dorito?”
You shake your head no and he shrugs before tilting his head back and pouring the contents of the bag into his mouth – well, mostly in his mouth. Near half of the cheese smothered triangles ended up on the floor or slipped down his hoody, which he’ll evidently wind up shaking onto the floor to join the others. You watch him for a moment in silent disgust; it’s like watching a pig eat its gruel, sounds like it as well. If he eats like that all the time then it’s no wonder that he’s gained a few pounds. He’s gotten especially pudgy around the middle.
Lucy finally comes back with a towel in her hands. “Here we are. Let’s get you dried and then we can-,” she stopped talking immediately as her eyes fell on the miniature mound of crisp crumbs around her boyfriends mismatched socked feet. She places her hands on her hips, “Desmond. How many times do I have to tell you not to make a mess? Do you even listen when I speak?”
“What mess?” Desmond asked, crumpling the now empty bag and hiding it behind his back.
Lucy exhaled heavily through her nose, as though trying to keep her anger under control. “Desmond...let’s not play this game again.”
“Game? Whose playing games?” He brushed the crumbs out of sight with his foot as inconspicuously as he could manage, keeping his gaze locked with the silently fuming blonde. He rubbed the cheese from his fingers on the back of his sweatpants, leaving an unsightly orange streak on his bum. “Now I, for one, don’t see any sign of the supposed ‘mess’ you’re talking about.” He looked to you expectantly, “Do you see a mess around here, (Y/N)?”
“Uh...,” you stole a glance at a few crumbs that remained - which were hard to miss seeing as how the tiny orange flakes were the only bright colour to be found in the cramped hallway – before staring back at Desmond. He blinked his eyes in rapid succession, silently pleading for you to not rat him out. It was tempting to spill the beans right there and then, but you needed to think of the future. Desmond could wind up being a necessary ally, or a serious pain in the ass, depending on how you handled this situation. Looking over to Lucy, you plastered on your best shit-eating grin, “I don’t see any mess either. Unless, of course, you’re referring to the water on the floor?”
Desmond grinned, giving you a subtle nod of thanks. With a look on her face that blatantly said ‘oh great, another one’, Lucy sighed and handed you the towel. “You shouldn’t encourage him, (Y/N).”
You simply shrugged in response, vigorously drying your hair and then your face. After you were about as dry as you were going to get with just a little towel, you followed Lucy down the hall and up the stairs with Desmond slowly lugging your bags after you, cursing quietly when slipping on one of the steps.
“This’ll be your room,” Lucy said, opening one of the doors and stepping inside. “I hope it’s alright.”
It would appear that your worst fear had been confirmed. This room was just as blindingly white as the rest of the house; the only colour being the dark grey covers of the bed, and the black desk and dressing table. You resist the urge to shield your eyes and turn to Lucy with a polite smile. “It’s pretty cool, Lucy. Thanks.”
She smiles just as Desmond practically collapses in the doorway, dropping your bags to the floor. “Man, what have you got in these things? You are aware that you’re only visiting, right? Not moving in permanently?”
“You may be ok with living in nothing but sweatpants, but I’m not. I’ve got an image to uphold,” you stated matter-of-factly.
He rolled his eyes and slipped out of the room, his heavy footsteps fading as he makes his way downstairs. Lucy gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I’ll leave you to unpack. Once you’re finished come downstairs and we’ll talk.”
“Will do,” you say, moving across the room and placing your bags beside the bed. The door closed behind you with a gentle click, leaving you alone. You flop backwards onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, and even heavier eyelids. You arched your head, (colour) eyes glued to the rain that continues to pour outside. So much for a sunny vacation. Hopefully it’ll clear up by tomorrow; you’re eager to explore the island you used to visit all the time as a child. What has changed since then? What hasn’t changed since then?
A yawn escapes you and before you know it you’re curled up on your side and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
>>>>Fast Forward (Next morning)>>>>
Rays of sunlight woke you up in tandem with pots and pans banging together. And what is that heavenly scent emanating from the kitchen? Smells like bacon, no pancakes – it’s both! You reluctantly shook of the shackles of sleep and frowned at the bags still packed and untouched from yesterday. You must have been exhausted to have just conked out the moment your head hit something even remotely comfortable.
Oh well, you’ll just unpack later. Right now there’s a plate of pancakes and bacon with your name on it!
Your nose guided your way towards the kitchen. When you entered, you were greeted by the unpleasant sight of a drowsy, half-dressed Desmond seated at the table, lazily nibbling on a syrup drenched pancake. He acknowledged your presence with a grunt.
Seating yourself across from him – and sucking back up the drool that threatened to slip out from the corner of your mouth - you helped yourself to the food laid out on the table. Man, everything looked so delicious, where did you start?
Lucy glides into the kitchen holding a thermos full of coffee in one hand, and a set of car keys in the other. “My boss is going to kill me if I’m late again,” she blows a loose strand of hair from her face and gives Desmond a peck on the cheek. “Good morning, (Y/N),” she greets warmly, gliding over and planting a kiss on your forehead before you had time to object – mainly due to having your mouth stuffed with food.
“I was hoping we’d get a chance to catch up last night, but you were already asleep when I checked in on you.”
“Sorry about that,” you swallowed, almost choking in the process. “I just passed out soon as I hit the mattress.”
Lucy smiled in understanding, “Travelling is always exhausting. Hopefully we’ll get some time to talk later on tonight, okay?”
“I’d like that.”
She nodded and slipped from the kitchen. “You two behave yourselves!” Was the last thing you heard before hearing the front door open and close.
Desmond blinked at you slowly, an amused smirking growing. “You got lipstick on your forehead.”
“Well you have some on your cheek,” you said with a small laugh, watching as he rubbed vigorously at the bright pink lip marks on his skin.
The remainder of breakfast was eaten in silence, albeit an occasional burp on Desmond’s end, and once finished you unpacked your bags, changed into some clean clothes, and were finally ready to start enjoying your vacation.
Finalising your makeup, you slipped your phone - which already had seven missed calls from your parents – into your pocket and bound down the stairs.
You shield your eyes from the harshness of the sun raging wildly overhead. It’s certainly different from yesterday. The ocean must be near by as you can smell its salt from the porch. The island is a lot more beautiful when it’s not raining.
You’ve only made it past the front gate when:
“Look out!”
But it’s too late to react. Another body collides with yours, knocking you both to the concrete. The wind gushes from your lungs, your face contorting in pain. What the hell was that?!
“Oh man, I’m really sorry!” An accented voice rushes out. It was young and vibrant. When you open your eyes you’re met with the prettiest shade of light blue you had ever seen. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
You blinked and realized you were face-to-face with the one that had knocked you down. Heat flushed across your cheeks – and it wasn’t due to the sun. The boy hovering above you seemed to be the same age as you. A thin upper lip and larger lower one, combined with a sharp, down-turned nose and slightly chubby cheeks...he certainly was a cutie. Those stunning blue eyes – which you assumed were rare to find on such foreign features – gazed down at you with worry and mild curiosity.
“So cute.”
The boys brows rose before a delighted laugh escapes his lips, and you inwardly curse upon realizing you had given voice to those words. Luckily he doesn’t bring attention to your slip up, and instead gets to his feet and helps you to yours. He was a lot taller from up here.
“I’m sorry about running you over. I, uh...,” you followed his sheepish gaze to a beaten up old skateboard sitting in the middle of the road, “I’m still practicing.” He points to himself with his thumb, a glowing smile on his face. “My name’s Kadar Al Sayf.”
“I’m (Y/N),” you say, relieved you didn’t stutter or waver. Bad enough you already called him cute, you didn’t need him thinking you were COMPLETELY incapable of normal social interaction.
He nodded enthusiastically, his boyish grin growing that much more. “That’s a nice name. I’ve never seen you around before. Did you just move here?” His voice held the curiosity of a child, a trait which could be quite endearing.
You gestured to the house the two of you stood in front of, “I’m just visiting, actually.”
“Oh,” Kadar scratched the back of his head, eyes glued to his shifting feet. Why does he seem so disappointed? Glancing back up, he grinned broadly, allowing you full view of a tiny gap between his two front teeth which only seemed to highlight his cuteness. “Listen, if you want a tour of the island I’d be happy to-”
“Hey, perdente!”
Kadar was rudely interrupted by another heavily accented voice from across the street, which, when you followed Kadar’s worried line of sight, belonged to a dark haired boy whose face bore a nasty smirk.
“Whose the bella ragazza, and why is she with you?” You didn’t know what a bella regazza was, but what you DID know was that you automatically didn’t like this guy as he approached, his pale eyes roaming up and down your body like a car waiting to be bought. Your nose crinkled in disgust as he grasped your hand and brushed his lips over your knuckles. “Cesare Borgia. And you are?”
“Disgusted,” came your curt reply as you wiped the back of your hand on your pants. Kadar glanced away with a secret smile, while Cesare’s smirk slipped momentarily into a sneer before disappearing completely.
“I’d be careful if I were you, bella.” Pale eyes hovered accusingly in Kadar’s direction. “Hanging with this stronzo will earn you a bad reputation.”
Kadar pulled a face – like you, he had no idea what a stronzo was, but he could only imagine it wasn’t anything pleasant – but chose to remain silent.
“Thanks, but,” you grasped Kadar’s elbow, making him glance down at the sudden contact, and forced out a tight-lipped smile, “I think I’ll take my chances.”
Cesare’s lips twitched and he shrugged, “Suit yourself, morosa. I look forward to our next encounter,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand as he drifted back the way he came.
“What a douchebag,” you say with a little laugh when it’s only you and Kadar. “Is he always like that?”
Kadar beamed a tiny smile, raising his shoulders slightly, “No, actually he’s not. To be honest, that’s the nicest I’ve ever seen him.”
“Seriously?” You made a mental note never to get on his bad side in the future.
“Yep. I think he likes you,” he teases, eyes searching your face. You crinkled your brow, unsure of how to feel about that. “I don’t blame him.”
You look to him in surprise and notice he’s just as surprised as you, a light redness tickling his nose and cheeks. Well, at least you’re not the only socially awkward person on the island. Showing him the same courtesy he showed you earlier, you clasped your hands behind your back, choosing to ignore his slip up. “You were saying something earlier about a tour of the island?”
His enthusiasm is contagious as he grabs your hands, nodding his head vigorously. “Yes, of course! I was on my way to meet a couple of my friends. I can show you some places I know on our way!”
Not giving you a chance to speak, he takes off down the street, picking up the abandoned skateboard as he passes, and drags you along with him.
What a way to start a vacation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I named the island 'Primrose Island' because: A) I didn’t want the story to be set somewhere like New York, Boston, etc. B) Primrose is another name for the mini island created by the Animus in Revelations.