title: the weight of us
author: alex (maraudings)
rating: t
word count: 1,690
disclaimer: all characters belong to lisi harrison.
a/n: so what have i been up to the past... five months? six months? well, a lot. i started college, my dreams were immediately re-evaluated and my soul was mildly crushed in the process, and i started writing my own original story (lol don't ask how it's going). this literally spewed out of my finger tips over the past three hours. it's supposed to be a continuation of my last one shot, maybe tonight we can stop dreaming, but reading that isn't 100% necessary to understand this. it would certainly help, though. i got the title from a song by sanders bohlke, which also is not necessary to listen to but hey it's a good song and is somewhat fitting.
also it's two am, don't yell at me for typos and grammar errors i'm too tired to fix. thanks.
- the weight of us -
Movies don't seem to tell you that high school doesn't matter.
It is portrayed as such a big part of your life. The be-all-end-all. No one tells you that the credits don't start rolling after graduation, that the story continues after the caps are thrown.
No one says that three months down the road, no one cares about how many honors or AP classes you took. No one cares that you scored the winning goal against your rival with just seconds left on the clock. No one cares that you finally got to spend time with the one girl that got away the night of graduation. No one cares that the morning after, she and you went your separate ways.
And so you go about your life. You go to college, where you meet new friends. Friends with normal colored eyes and friends who think football (the American version, of course) is what the entire world is centered around. You meet more girls, girls who are nothing like her and girls who can bring her to mind with the smallest of mannerisms. You learn things and "broaden your mind", just like the brochure said you would. Your sense of self is molding and shaping, and only when you come across an old picture of the state championships from senior year do you realize that you are no longer the same person you used to be.
And somewhere, deep down, you mourn for your loss.
-x-
Derrick Harrington, the once star goalie and all-around golden boy, was no more. In his place came Derrick Harrington, marketing associate at a quickly rising communications firm with a Bachelors in Business Administration and a Masters in Finance.
Ten years is ten years, after all.
And of course, he receives a letter embossed with the Briarwood coat of arms. It's been ten years, after all.
The reunion is set to be held in the gymnasium (something about the ballroom of the Ritz seemed to impersonal). And so, on the 16th of June, he slips into a classic black suit and tie and gets behind the wheel of his black Mercedes C-Class.
-x-
Despite the car change, the drive to the school was almost second nature.
But what little excitement he had garnered for the event vanished the second he stepped onto the waxed floors of the state-of-the-art athletic facility.
He didn't immediately recognize anyone, but when he did something was off. It was a sea of suits and dresses on people it didn't seem to fit. The class clown who attempted to twerk at graduation looked stiff and serious next to a pack of apparently reformed stoners. The quarterback of the football team seemed to have put on a few pounds, and his hairlines showed signs of receding. But it was really them, wasn't it? All these adults on the cusp of their twenties were the exact same kids who spent their free time trashing lake houses and crowding the local pizza parlor.
They were all here.
And she's here, of course. Unlike the last time, she is not off by herself. Instead she is where she had been for the bulk of their time haunting these halls—surrounded by friends, the center of attention. Not much seemed to have changed with her.
Except, something had. Despite the physical changes (she was leaner, eyes and mouth showing the beginnings of laugh lines, skin tanned from her new life in the golden state), something was plainly different. From his distance across the gymnasium, he could see it. Her arm was wrapped around that of another, the ring finger on her left hand shone a little brighter.
He wasn't sure if it was the disappointment crushing his windpipe or the scotch.
He ignored it, of course, and instead forced himself into half-hearted conversations with people he wasn't completely positive he remembered the names of. Clara (Clarisse?) Rochester bent his ear for ten minutes about how her toddler was adjusting to preschool. Mark Something or other (Fuck, someone should have thought of providing nametags) wanted to rehash the memory of every party they apparently attended together since freshman year.
However, not all reunions are unwanted.
Something about being in the presence of his old teammates, his old friends, brought out the inner seventeen-year-old in them all. Cam got dared to chug an entire bottle of Absolut. Kemp had the inspiring idea of bringing back his tradition of hitting on their vice principal (who was still a total fox). And all of them loudly replayed every game winning moment of their teenage lives, on and off the field.
They had been state champions.
They had been academic successes and faculty nuisances.
They had been the kings of their youth.
They had been best friends.
-x-
Of course, she eventually sought him out.
It was something he knew to expect. He was still tuned to her, after all. That kind of bond just doesn't away.
He was admiring one of the many boards of pictures set up around the gym when she approached.
"We seem to be making this a tradition," she said in greeting. "You and me, off by ourselves at a school function."
"Hey, you sought me out this time," he reminded her. "I seem to recall it was me coming to cheer you up on senior night. If I remember correctly, you were freaked out going off to Berkeley, which was complete bullshit."
She smiled. "Hey, if I remember you said it was an awful idea."
"I only meant that you being by yourself was not a good idea. I knew you would be okay in the end, but it was the rough patch at the beginning I was worried about. I didn't like the idea of you so far away."
She went silent, turning to admire the collection of freshman year Homecoming photos.
"Look at my hair," she said after a minute. "Good lord, you'd think I'd known when to stop with the crimping iron…"
"Hey, I liked it," he said in defense. "I mean, it beat out my date's hair, if I recall."
"Ah, right. That was the year Olivia Ryan tried to bleach her hair at home and ended up with splotches in her hair."
He laughed, recalling the ruthless teasing he suffered at the hands of Josh. "I had thought she was attempting to channel Cruella de Vil, since the theme that year was Disney movies."
And there they went, off on a journey down memory lane. They talked about spirit weeks and class pranks. The exchange students and the cheating techniques. Every notable event they experience in high school and then some.
But never did he talk about the longing looks he used to catch himself sending her way. Never did he recall the number of nights he was kept awake thinking about her smile or her hair or the way she titled her paper when she wrote. And never did he dare to think about how warm and how right her hand had felt in his that night on the lakeside.
After all, Massie Block was a lot of things.
But what would never change was what she meant to him. His first kiss. First girlfriend. First love.
Eventually they found themselves away from the gym full of their graduating class. They instead walked the hallways side-by-side. She ran her hand along the lockers as they walked, and the sound of a ring against the metal surface was a blaring reminder of what is lost and never will be.
"So," Derrick started. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, unsure of what they would do if they weren't confined. He nods at her hand instead. "You're getting married."
She nodded, a small smile growing on her face.
"To Jake, was it?" The name had been thrown around by Plovert earlier, and at its mention he had pretended to find interest in the old baseball team pictures.
"Yeah, Jake."
She smiled, and he can tell she's trying hard not to look at him. "Good," He said. "He seems like a great guy. I'm happy for you."
And he was. For no matter what he felt for the loss of what would never be, he knew that she would be alright. And somewhere down the line, he would be too.
She stopped in the middle of the hallway, and grabbed his hand. Part of him wanted to pull away. It seemed harder to remain accepting this way.
"Derrick," She wasn't looking at him, instead at their joined hands. "I don't think I ever got to tell you how much you meant to me. My dreams were built around you. My entire world circulated around you when I was fourteen. And then it didn't, and it was like it was thrown off its axis. But I always regretted not being a part of your life in high school. Every day I would pass you in the halls and a part of me seemed to mourn. You were my best friend." Those amber eyes are on his now. "Truly, you were."
He swallowed. "Mass-"
She won't let him speak. And he was grateful for it, because he wasn't sure what would've come out if she did. "And then, the night of graduation, you came to me as if you could pick up that was exactly what I needed. Sitting on the lake shore with you was exactly the sendoff from high school I needed. It just fit. You were the beginning of everything and the end." She smiled, eyes shining. "I just wanted to tell you that, just once."
He didn't really know how to react. But it didn't matter, for she slid her free arm around his waist and crushed herself into him.
And they held onto each other for what he knew to be the last time they ever would.