Focuses on young Millie and David

Summary: David has a chance to prove to Millie how much he cares with

a snow globe from a yard sale. Basically his thoughts.

Thoughts

As usual, R&R. Reviews are love. :D

They are both small town teens. Searching for themselves in the pulsing mass of uncertainty and awkwardness that is high school.

The one thing David knew absolutely.

Millie and him had a connection. An understanding of each other.

At least that's how David feels.

He knows she would love to travel: Paris, Prague, Rome, Venice, and London.

He stops by her locker; he sees the pictures of landmarks and beautiful views of far off places that she keeps in her locker. Mostly crumbled, wrinkled with the dozens of times he imagines her flipping threw them, scribbling notes with places that were there, for example the Sistine Chapel or the Coliseum.

Searching for something to say, he bites his lip and blurts out, "That's a lot of cities you got there."

He watches as she slides her petite hands up the side of the locker and pushes it shut, leaving the pictures in the dark.

"Well, if you gotta dream, might as well dream big right?"

She says goodbye almost apologetically and leaves him standing there. She doesn't look back.

He waits for her after school. Poorly wrapped birthday present in his hand, quick breathes coming out in white puffs as the air chills his lungs.

He calls to her, and as he waits for her to come over his heart does erratic somersaults in his chest, pushing against his ribcage.

He picked it up at a yard sale in Plymouth, tells her so as she reaches out to take it from his trembling fingers.

"It's a little dinged up and it's missing a few steps, but…" He misses the smile and the light that reaches her eyes when she opens it up. He's too busy hoping she'll like it even though it's less than perfect. Just like him.

"I love it."

"You do." He's relieved that she likes it, excited because if she can accept the old, used snow globe with a caricature of the Eiffel Tower, she can accept him too.

"I do."

They're smiling and then the moment is gone.

Broken by a bully, Mark, an asshole with an attitude problem.

He snatches the snow globe from Millie and parades it around like he's found something taboo. "Look what David gave Millie!" Mocking, hurtful, everything it was meant to be.

Millie yanks the bully's jacket and orders for him to give it back, and Mark holds out his hand.

David, watching, is hesitant to reach for it he knows Mark doesn't just give up. Sure enough, as soon as David's close, Mark hurls it across the field to the ice that's formed in the winter "wonderland".

Onto the fragile and transitioning ice. Just like him, he just doesn't know it.

Unsuspectingly dangerous, he thinks. Just like him.

He heads toward it. She needs to know how much he cares and this is one way without having to say it aloud. Because honestly, he doesn't think he can say it.

He sets his mind and feels the crackling and shifting underneath his feet but he's already there.

He picks it up and dusts it off, holds it in the air to show her he's got it. He is victorious. Her champion, if she lets him.

Crack.

He looks down as he hears her scream, and then he's in the water.

Thrashing and suffocating. The icy current too strong for him to fight.

Even though he's struggling he feels clear. He thinks about Millie and oddly enough the library. He feels safe and comfortable there.

Thinks about when his father's drunk. Remembers the posters in the library. Remembers the books and their mottled pages, the papery smell they have. Had. He'll never smell again, now everything that "is" was. Past tense. Over.

He's losing it. Giving up. He imagines it wouldn't be so bad to die.

The he feels a pull. A yank.

He ends up on the library floor, soaking wet and freaked the fuck out.

Flips open a book and sure enough, the stamp says "Ann Arbor Regional Library". Looks to his left and sees the snow globe.

He had held onto it despite letting go of life. He held onto Millie.

He pushes himself to his feet and walks soaking wet through the snow because he's not sure how to trigger the weird transportation pull or whatever and he has no one to call.

He keeps his head down and trudges on. He ends up at her house, he doesn't know how.

David can see the light on in her room and hears her mom's muffled comforts to her daughter. Waits till she leaves and then approaches the swing set in Millie's backyard.

He touches the chains and grips it; they had played there together since they were eight years old. It makes sense their friendship should end here too.

He has to leave, and he's not sure that once he does he'll ever see her again. By the time he comes back, if he comes back, she'd probably be gone.

He isn't good with words so he balances the snow globe on the swing carefully so it won't fall. Making just enough noise that she would hear, and runs.

It's ironic. The one person he's consistently been running to, he's running from.

It's year later and he's grown. Running from a man with a stick of electricity and a motive to kill.

He can't help but look her up.

He's not afraid to tell her anymore. He's confident and cocky, independent, and ready to get what he wants.

He smiles. This time he will show her how much he wants her. There's no doubt about that.