The cool, crisp autumn air whistled around me, gently tousling my ebony hair and swaying my clothes. Consequently, the post I was leaning against whilst awaiting the arrival of my best and only friend, Chris, was icy and uncomfortable against my back. Yet another reason for him to hurry the hell up: my trifling day at school had me on edge.
In annoyance, I allowed my eyes to flicker to the floor, avoiding the stares of passing students. My mood instantly brightened, however, when my pointed gaze fell upon a pretty flower. Finally, an excuse!
I removed my bag from my back hastily and unzipped it, bubbling over with excitement. Rummaging for a few seconds was enough for my fingers to brush against the cold material that had been abandoned all day, and I dragged my deep purple Polaroid camera out in triumph. I wasn't sure of its brand, nor did I care: it was my life.
My baby in my hands at last, I zipped up my bag and returned it to my back. I let my gaze linger on the beautiful flower a while longer, quietly admiring the gently swaying petals and the vibrant summery colours that were so perfectly out of place in the season of browns and oranges. Such a pretty sight!
I wasn't aware of its name, but this was very much a June flower. It's gently folded out petals that danced in the breeze were a rich royal blue, very flattering to the eye. They were cupped by two splendidly green leaves, pointed and bloomed to perfection. And attached to it all was the thick, juicy stem, starting out the greenest of greens at the top and fading to a more seasonally appropriate dirt brown as it reached the ground.
Still slightly dazed by the initial shock of the flower's beauty, I raised my camera and adjusted the settings after turning it on. I placed my finger on the shutter and felt my lips pursing in concentration as I moved the camera around, finding the perfect position.
When I was happy, I let my index finger press down on the shutter and reveled in the satisfying click as my camera focused and captured the glory in front of me. Excitement bubbled inside my stomach, eager to see the outcome.
I refrained from letting out a squeal when my picture slipped out of the designated slot reserved for this purpose. Standing with my back to the sun, I sheltered the blank canvas carefully with my hand and stood waiting for the image. Some idiots assumed that you needed to shake it for the image to develop, but that was never a good move. That destroyed it completely. I probably knew the science behind it, but I was in no mood to conjure it from the depths of my mind.
As the picture became clearer and my mood brightened considerably, I heard someone shout my name and jumped, not expecting the loud noise.
The picture slipped from my grasp and I squealed in alarm. At impossible speed, I threw my hand out to catch it before it fluttered to the muddy ground. Thankfully I didn't crumple it in my haste.
I turned in time to see my best friend reach me, breathless and flushed.
"Chris! You scared me!" I scolded, glaring at him pointedly.
"S-sorry!" Chris gasped out, his hands on his knees as he struggled to regain his composure. Like me, Chris wasn't exactly the fittest person in the world.
I sighed at him, shrugging out of my bag straps to put my camera away. When it was safely stowed in the depths of my school books, I stood waiting for Chris to pull himself together.
When he finally straightened up with a huff, I immediately shoved the Polaroid picture in his face. He narrowed his eyes and took a small step away to see it better.
"Taking more pictures I see," Chris observed, running his hand through his damp brown hair, "of flowers?" He snickered at this, letting his hand drop to grasp his bag strap.
"Will the pretty flower be going in the album with the cute ladybird?" He teased mercilessly. I had never seen a yellow ladybird, OK, I just wanted to capture the moment! Stop judging me, I feel you judging me!
I snatched my precious baby away from him and cradled it to my chest before carefully slipping it into my trouser pocket. I couldn't help feeling a little put out and hurt, even though I knew very well he wasn't being serious.
"Shut up," I mumbled, dipping my head so he wouldn't see my red cheeks.
When I looked up through my eyelashes I noticed him smirking before his face was suddenly serious.
"Why do you take the stupid pictures anyway?"
He didn't hesitate to turn and start walking immediately after he asked, leaving me to run after him like an idiot.
I considered my reply, baffled. Chris never usually took an interest in my emotions. We were the sort of friends that conversed mundanely and just enjoyed each others company.
"I-I don't really know? I guess I just love to capture moments. Like, as opposed to just letting them slip from your memory over time."
That, and the fact that my beautiful Polaroid camera and antique marble scrapbook were my only truly valuable items. Things that were mine and only mine, and held more emotional properties than material ones. They were the first and last things my great aunt had ever bought for me, when she fell out with my mother only a short while after their reunion.
"Its weird, I know. Phil Lester, the fourteen year old nerd that fanboys over memory catching." I muttered when Chris hadn't replied a couple of minutes later.
"Its not weird!" He blurted, surprising me, "its just that your response was a little more heartfelt than I expected. I didn't know what to say."
Okay, this was officially strange. Asking me about my feelings was one thing, but confessing his own?! And he hadn't quoted Shakespeare once! I was on the verge of phoning an ambulance.
I let my fingers brush against the photo in my pocket to distract myself, smiling a little.
"Why did you ask anyway?" I wondered aloud.
"I was just curious. I mean, you get so excited over the damn pictures, I figured that maybe it was some sort of creepy fetish." He explained nonchalantly, pointedly ignoring me when I spluttered and flushed. Oh god, how long had he thought that?! Oh god.
I'd had my weird photo taking addiction way before I even knew him, did this mean he'd just assumed it from the very beginning? How mortifying! Oh god.
"Well, don't you have any guilty pleasures? Things that make you happy even though they really shouldn't?" I snapped, not really expecting an answer.
When I turned my head to look at him though, I noticed that his face had to darkened to a deep shade of red, suggesting otherwise. I raised my eyebrows, eager to hear his reply.
"Um, nope. None at all." He muttered, staring very hard in the other direction. I smirked in disbelief. What a little liar. Did he really expect me to believe him?
"Liar. Tell me. Now." I demanded, rare authority laced through my voice. He turned his head to stare at me, wide eyed.
Chris opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut and sighed when he saw that it was pointless.
"You already know." He mumbled, confusing me. Knew what? He bowed his head and concentrated very hard on the ground before continuing. "My literature quoting. My happy escape."
My eyes widened.
"I hadn't realised, I thought you just wanted to be smart all the time." I admitted, watching him furrow his brow and purse his lips at my reply. "Why does it mean so much to you?"
He cleared his throat.
"I genuinely don't know. I just get this elated feeling whenever I get the chance to throw in a piece of Shakespeare or Dickens or Hardy." I struggled to keep a straight face at the innuendos I heard in that sentence and let him continue without interjecting. "I guess- I don't know." He stuttered throughout his explanation, making it clear that he had never admitted this before, to anyone.
"Hey, I think its cool. Don't worry about it." I reassured him. I had never seen him convey this much emotion in such a short space of time.
The silence that settled on us after that was almost unbearable. Our situation had become terribly awkward.
We weren't far from Chris's house now, and the conversation felt everything but over.
An idea to rectify the situation sparked in my mind as I glanced over at Chris's still pink face, and I stopped suddenly, swinging my bag off my shoulders.
After a few seconds, Chris responded by stopping also and staring quizzically over his shoulder at me as I brought out my camera. His face cleared when he caught sight of it.
"What have you spotted that you want to 'capture' now, thou cream faced loon?"
Smiling to myself, I checked that his own face was still anything but cream before I turned on my camera, adjusted some settings and snapped a picture of him, not giving him a chance to protest. I laughed mercilessly aat his shell-shocked expression.
I desperately dug out a Shakespearean phrase from the array of random snippets of information strewn out in my mind, sheltering the newly developed photo from the sun.
"I was searching for a fool when I found you, Chris Kendall."
A/N
And so it begins...
This phanfiction is kind of my baby and a big step from my previous fanfic, which was five chapters. In this one I aim to have a LOT more. Opinions?
I'll be updating this every Saturday, throwing in a oneshot every Monday, and posting on the collab acc @KnivesAndPens_xo every Wednesday from now on! So yeah look forward to more of me :)
Its 2 in the morning as I write this and I'M SO AWAKE ugh its becoming a problem
Also karim just
One more thing!
If any of you are reading the troyler au 'Freak' by MelancholyMango, it's been entered into the watty awards! So be sure to tweet a link to the fanfic with #Wattys2014 to vote- rts count as votes too!
Kai Dubai!
~Georgina
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