Soft breezes blew through the long and dried grass, creating a sea of gold shimmering in waves of ecstasy. The sweet smell of earth wafted through the rich land and danced around one's senses. The warm sun caressed the land gently with its heat. Never too hot neither too cold down in this southern rural country, always just right.
The blonde teen smiled as he lay upon the grass under his favorite willow, merely lazing the day away, completely free of all worry around him. His sky blue eyes peered up through the leaves of the willow, watching the clouds roll slowly along the breeze, taking up numerous different shapes recognizable to the human eye. Such curiosity and amusement can be emitted just by watching and guessing which shape the lazy cloud can take up, allowing hours upon hours to drift by with this little mind game.
He takes in a deep breath and meditates within his surroundings. Goodness knows he needed it. All that stress from his work and all can take a toll on a young mind as his. Especially all that arguing and negotiating and… Well let's not think of that at the moment. Right now lets just… Melt.
With a sigh, he closes his eyes imagines himself as a chunk of ice. Warming up his chilled mind and soul, he simply subconsciously melts. Eventually, the ice turns into a cool puddle. The cool puddle finally evaporates into a gas, taking the shape of a cloud. His soul drifts amongst the cloud, shift-shaping into cute little animals and shapes for people amongst the world to point out and name his every hazy shape. His cloudy soul then becomes bigger and more concentrated. Soon, he drips back to Earth, only to go back to being a cool puddle. Once again, repeating his cycle of imaginary meditation.
The American opened his eyes once again and sits up. He takes in his calm surroundings before standing up and running across the field of grass. The grass creates a flattened pathway and trails behind his every step. He jumps and flings his arms up into the air in complete joy. Breaking out into a sprint, he runs with nowhere in mind. His healthy legs pump faster and faster. The dry grasses thrash against his faded jeans. His bare feet pound and trample the earth, kicking bits of dirt behind him. His arms swing to and fro, hands in fists as he concentrates on his beating heart and the steady pound of earth.
Finally, his voice suddenly rings out through the empty air. His soul once again flows about and soars along with his body. The grass danced to his singing voice and made way at his presence. The boy spins his body and let his arms swing along. Both mind and body seemed to be in pure bliss in the calming atmosphere. Never did he ever think at that moment that an even greater bliss will someday come along, a bliss that will forever tie him down with the red string of fate.
The cold rain beat down the window, causing little dribbles chase each other about the sill. Light suddenly flashes and thunder soon follows after in a deafening roar. Slow and steady rain pitters across the roof tops and patters along the concrete earth below. Thunder once again, echoes throughout the dim sky.
An older teen sits at a little coffee table with a book in hand while huddled up in a cotton blanket for added comfort. The mesmerizing rhythm and the normality of the weather put him at ease as he becomes absorbed into the mysterious novel.
The earlier lecture's anxiety and stress and whatnot soon begin to flow out of his system. He then awards himself to a cup of his favorite tea, grown from his other home's thriving gardens. Oh how he loved his gardens. So easy to tame and eventually you'll get awarded by its ripe delicacies, like now.
Unfortunately, due to business with the educational system, he is stuck in London. Not that he minded too much, he didn't mind at all actually, it's just that he prefers the lesser active suburbs outside the city. It's just more poetic there and puts his writing soul at ease.
The city can be nice too, he admits. Less of a walking distance to a grocery story, and the tailors here are absolutely of high class. Such close but busy neighbors indeed add to the quick pace amongst the streets. The city is most certainly alive that's for sure. But its nothing compared to his quiet little house on the outside. The farmer's market, though quite a walking distance, can be trusted to have reasonable prices and even friendlier service.
With a sigh, he takes another sip while letting his mind drift elsewhere. His mind suddenly drifts to a certain pursuer, a French pursuer. He had wavy and blonde shoulder-length hair and little stubble across the tip of his chin. The Frenchman, though attractive in appearance (Not that he'll ever know that from the Britain), has a reputation over the fact that he flirts with anything that has a heartbeat, including yours truly. Bloody frog doesn't know what 'no!' means. Always asking for his hand, barging in the bathroom while he's in the shower, and oh lets not forget the bloody kitchen incident! There are still wine stains on his embroidery that was so beautifully hung up on his kitchen wall to this day!
The Brit growled in frustration at his sudden thoughts and takes a larger sip of tea to calm his quick and short temper. Lord knows that he needed a shot of whiskey right now! But no, he had to be the proper gentleman and not resort to drowning his stress and anxiety in liquor… Oh how he hated not being able to just… Do what he wanted, instead of having to live up to societies expectations. You know, just have him be himself entirely instead of putting up a damn gentleman's front and smile a big fake smile. He just wanted to be… free.
A/N: This is my first story that I actually managed to finish the first chapter. I was basically using this first chapter to introduce the people you know and their current living style. So obviously I'm not going along with the original story. The next upcoming chapters, I plan on making them longer than this.