thanks to RedAbsol for the ship suggestion!
modern au!
song inspiration: Thank You, by MKTO
In the corner, Crys leans against a tall table with both elbows and bored eyes. Unlike some of her other friends, she hasn't been secretly (or not-so-secretly) looking forward to her high schools ten-year reunion at all. Sure, Crys made some good friends and memories, but the truth of the matter is that many of her friends were in different grades from her, and those who she did come to love she's seen many times well before now.
The night is halfway over already. She's made her rounds, collected and extended business cards as if it's a game, and chatted with a couple acquaintances who have ditched Facebook and not yet gotten ahold of Instagram.
But everyone has settled now, just like drink has settled in stomach, and she watches all these crazy almost thirty-year-olds the way she used to watch crazy teenagers.
The sheer amount of gossip in here is almost thick enough to choke her. But it's not sudden enough for that, not surprising, so instead the throwback tunes and pointed fingers and raised eyebrows just settle on her shoulders, heavy.
They're back in the gym like so many other events once were. There are tables and chairs and a bar that she's steering fairly clear of and a dance floor that she's steering very clear of. That's where she spots the most familiar faces, including her old buddy Gold.
Best friends in high school or not, most unlikely sweethearts of the year or not, she hasn't really seen him in a while. They caught up around the Fourth of July last year, she remembers, over brunch and a movie, and they reminisced the whole time. He tries but doesn't understand her work and there are only so many times airplane folks can say their pre-flight safety speech before everyone's eyes glaze over — he does do it for her once, and they laugh about it over waffles.
And she hasn't really thought about him since.
Crys considers, not for the first time, wandering over to say hello. He had caught her eye earlier but got immediately swept away by old soccer buddies, and that was that. But he fits right in among the laughter and glory as if he never left, and that just isn't her thing.
"Just like the good old days," a low voice behind her says, and she checks over her shoulder before deciding which grin to put on. To her relief, it gets to be a genuine one.
"Welcome back," she greets him dryly, turning her body to face him.
Off-handedly, Crys wonders to what he's referring now — the two of them, off in a corner, passively judging everybody while the rest of the world draws in around their little worries?
In his hands are two plates of food, something catered from a restaurant that didn't used to be here. "You should have just made a break for it when the lights came on."
He shrugs, the small gesture moving each pleat in his well-fitted suit. Although Silver has always seemed so much taller than he really was — and he still does — he's actually grown into his shoulders now, and she feels both smug and curiously protective as they walk in together and people do double-takes with interest.
Instead of answering properly, Silver takes a sip of water, his piercing eyes roving the room yet again. They've had a few uncomfortable encounters where someone has come over, said hi to Crys, and then jumped ship — but of course she expects nothing less; Silver did after all attend exactly eight out of forty of the most basic school functions in his time here.
He doesn't look too bothered.
"Thanks for this," she says with a smile. His mouth quirks.
Before he can respond — and this is disappointing because she was very, very interested in his reply — there is a gasp so loud that it sets her teeth on edge.
"Crystal!" the voice trills, actually trills, and she turns around with a Big Grin attached firmly on her face.
Then the Grin drops and so does her jaw.
"Lyra Soul!" she exclaims.
The woman laughs with delight, grabbing for Crys's wrist. She is absolutely sparkling. Literally. Jewelry of all kind hang off her body, but even Crys can see that it's more tasteful than tacky.
"It's great to see you!" Crys manages around the other girl's tall hair. Lyra is either doing exceedingly well for herself or going through a carefully-plotted scheme to appear that way.
"You too!" Lyra enthuses, patting her arm. "How have you been?"
Crys gives her a couple lines that she's got memorized by now about science and fieldwork and a book, though Lyra at least seems more invested than most of the other familiar faces.
(Silver's jaw clenches without his say-so and it's an effort to ease the breath in his lungs and remember where and when he is. It's been years — a decade — since his ex has had any power over him and he likes it that way.
And, really, it's not a big deal. It's not. If he's thinking clearly, he knows that he doesn't care one whit about her. It's just that Silver doesn't have many friends and never really did. To see any one of them now is just jarring. He gets the same feeling from Gold, and Wallace, and Steven and Drake and Glacia and Phoebe and Sidney, for no real reason other than that here is proof that, once, he took the time to create a...connection of some sort with another human being.
He doesn't like his past very much.
So what's he doing here now?
That's a very good question.)
"And who's this?" Lyra asks expectantly, smiling at Silver. And then she stops, takes off her glasses, and gets real close. "Is that...Silver!" Her excitement doesn't lessen. "You swore you'd never come back to this place in your life! Wow, am I glad to see you." She goes to hug him and though he doesn't return the effort, he also doesn't flee.
Yet.
Crys can see it in his eyes, though: the urge.
"Hello," he says finally.
"What a throwback, am I right?" Lyra says. "The three of us...oof, those were the days."
"They were," Crys agreed mildly. It's harder than she thought to feel comfortable around some these people who she once would have taken piggyback rides or car rides from without blinking.
"I forgot forks," Silver announces stiffly, and makes himself scarce. On the other tables, big and round and populated by a dozen folks each, there are place settings beside each paper plate combo, but these little ones are meant more for either socializing or lack thereof.
As soon as he's gone, Lyra lowers her head.
"Are you two here together?" she asks, eyes sparkling and tone speculative. "When I walked over, I didn't believe my eyes; Crystal, dating? I didn't remember you changing your relationship status at all. But then it was Silver, and I assumed y'all just found each other here, same as I found you. But then," she barrels on, "two plates! Two glasses! Two chairs! Two!"
Crys coughs.
"It's very stuffy over there," she says truthfully. "I just wanted some air. And you know how Silver is."
"Mhm. Lunch in the library every day for a year." She nods for a moment before diving right back into the question. "But are you here together?" Crys can hear so many follow-ups, because even if no one else here has mentioned that possibility — they're more likely to assume that two old weirdos in the past are just two old weirdos in the now; even Lyra had made that guess, though with less disdain and more excitement — it's one that Crys hasn't neglected.
Are they?
They never really lost contact after high school the way so many do, but even then it was only sparse communications lobbed back and forth from afar. It's only been the last year that the emails turned to texts turned to Skype turned to lunch turned to dinner turned to Since your car is still getting fixed up, I can give you a ride to the reunion tomorrow? turned to I'd like that. I mean, I'd appreciate it.
So Crys doesn't really have an answer.
"Not really," she tells Lyra, uncomfortable because Silver will be back any minute and for some reason she's not sure if her answer would be the same either way. But she holds it together long enough for Silver to return and answer (and fend off) more questions. Eventually, Lyra gives them both more hugs, takes Crys's business card, and swans off, leaving the two of them again to their bubble, undisturbed among the crowds.
Their hands bump when reaching for glasses of water but it's not any cute kind of thing because one of the glasses spills over them and she stands up fast, patting off her trousers with a sigh because the damage is done and her feet are wet.
She gives Silver a wry look of exasperation and, to her surprise, her levels her gaze with a surprisingly focused expression. Sure, he's intense and she knows that, but there's something else, something lighter, mixed into the seriousness there.
"What?" Crys asks, raising her eyebrows even as she reaches for a napkin to blot with.
"Do you wanna get out of here?" he asks, and she doesn't need to run her eyes over the rest of the room, over all of these bits and pieces of the past.
In all her ever-increasing talks with Silver, their old high school days are just sprinkled in every once in a while. Not even every conversation. And Crys has always been more future-driven, down to highlighting her planners with so many colors that each page could have decorated an Easter egg.
"Sure," Crys says, clicking her heels together just once — definitively. "I think we've been back here long enough."
"Agreed."
They walk away from it all with their hands close.
if you like this — and i hope that you do — then my other fic Never Letting Go is its equal yet opposite...!
