1+2/ one-shot.
A prequel (sort of,) to 'Teach Me How To Be Cool'
Two Days In February
"Sometimes I wish
That we all were immortal
And the game of life always had a happy end
But I know it's not true oh time keeps passing
But I'm just glad to spend my time with you…"
-Lines On Your Face/Vertical Horizon
It was another summer afternoon in the small isolated town of Darlington. Amidst all the bustling hassles from the out skirting city, it remained irenic and untouched by modernization. The old little town churches stood the same way it did years back, only older and wiser. Houses lined up in a similar fashion, all bearing simple furnished windows and oak doors of the same kin, the numbers on the door the only distinction that would be able to tell the difference between them all.
The population was less than half a thousand, the year some time forgotten and lost in a whirl of memories and years. The community folk were still nice then, bowing politely and greeting some people they knew from the baker shop or the grocery store when they'd get to cross ways in the sidewalk, or coincidentally go to the same dentist, something that wouldn't be a rarity since there was only one dentist in town.
They-the naïve people of Darlington- certainly were cordial back then, wearing merry smiles on their faces because life was still easy and skyscrapers and tall institutions and joblessness have yet not been a common occurrence in their dear little town. Traffic was something the little town never bore. Pollution seemed an obscene crime. The children played together without argue and teens were not yet as rebellious as they would be ten years from then. And so Darlington remained as it was, the peaceful and dull haven set in Massachusetts thirty minutes from Boston.
The summer sun beat down jubilantly, and if it only had lips, it might've smiled down at the little town. In the playground in the town's small park, a little boy chased butterflies, marveling over their iridescent color under the rays of the sun while his mother watched over him, a small leather book on her lap. The boy was only five years old.
A few toddlers had occupied the sand box; a small little boy with clear blue eyes and blonde hair with his pile of expensive-looking toys, another boy his age wearing a disgruntled frown as he lapped sand into his green-eyed playmate and a dark-haired girl. Mothers kept their guard on their children, some chatting with old friends on the nearby bench, some just content in silence, as they took no heed of anything else but their sons and daughters.
The small boy who had been chasing butterflies earlier continued his pursuit, arms raised above his head as he tried to grab the multi-colored butterfly flitting a few inches above him. He jumped up and pouted when the butterfly flew, flapping its beautiful heart-shaped wings away in a brisk speed for somebody his age. His violet eyes saddened as the rest of the butterfly cluster flitted away from him simply too high for his reach and he fell to his rear, crossing his arms in disappointment as the chase came to a halt.
His shoulders shook and in the next consecutive minutes that followed, large crystal tears leaked from his eyes.
Heero Yuy was five and a half years old and, being older than his 'playmates' more often known as the kids who dared use his sandbox space, he felt an air of authority over them all. The games they played were getting very old, the usual fancy toys the blonde boy brought from his toy box. Trowa, Heero's neighbor intently played with the blonde boy, thus ignoring Heero and not taking note of the older boy's very existence. Heero had even tried putting sand in Trowa's hair but that proved to be a wrong idea because Trowa threw a fit and called for his mommy.
Heero frowned. His okaasan was chatting with another woman on the bench who had long chestnut hair and violet eyes and could do no more but smile at him every now and then. Heero eyed Trowa who dusted sand from his hair and continued playing with the blonde boy.
The Japanese boy needed an escape; otherwise he might die of boredom. Every weekend his okaasan brought him to the park even if he didn't like it there. Well, playing with Trowa had been fun while it lasted but upon seeing his neighbor with the rich blonde boy and his lack of interest in playing with Heero, the latter found it dull in the park with nothing else to do than play with the sand and himself.
There were of course the other occupants of the sandbox-the girls- however they had the tendency to squeal far too much or flinch and cry at the slightest sight of bugs and it irked him relentlessly that he had even broke a girl's toy once or twice to make her mommy take her away from him.
But back to the matter at hand, Heero was quite adventurous and had managed to slip out of his mother's gaze for a brief moment. As quietly as he could he crawled toward a nearby bush and hid there for some moments before seeing he was at a safe distance and traipsed along the other 'uncharted' (at leas to him) territories of the 'vast' park.
Nothing much was there to see except for the occasional parents watching over their children, more bushes and trees shrouding the area from the sun, fences that restricted the little Japanese boy from venturing into the flowered gardens and lots of butterflies.
Heero hated butterflies for some reason. They were itchy, clashingly colored creatures that always came too close to his okaasan's daisies. Feeling an urge to catch one in order to kill it later on for touching okaasan's daisies, he chased a small red butterfly wandering away from its cluster.
He reached out and ran against the wind, jogging to catch up and reach the flying creature with his nimble fingers and surely, his hand grasped a red wing and deftly he plucked it from the air, palming the fluttering insect in his hand. He grinned triumphantly to himself; Prussian blue eyes shimmering as he mentally patted himself on the back.
He was busily thinking about various ways to torture the butterfly he held in one hand when small cries broke him from his thoughts. He looked up, eyes instinctively taking on the size of slits-a small glare that seemed almost unbearably charming from someone his age.
His eyes rested on a jumper-clad girl with long chestnut hair tied into a braid, sobbing uncontrollably on the ground. He walked over to the girl, poking her on the shoulder annoyingly. "Psst."
The girl didn't even look at him, just cried even louder. Heero frowned at the sound and his free hand flew directly to his left ear.
"Shut up!" Heero ordered sternly as the girl kept crying. The girl finally looked up at him, violet eyes brimming with more tears as she eyed Heero with the most innocent expression. Her shoulders shook visibly and her small pale hands covered the rest of her face except her eyes.
Heero gaped at her-she was very, very pretty.
"What do you want?" The girl hiccupped. "Go away!"
Heero glared at her. "Hn. This is my playground. You go away!"
"I don't care if this is your playground, I wanna sit here!" The girl stood up and stared into him defiantly. Her lower lip still quivered and Heero frowned at her height. She was an inch shorter so she must've been four or something.
"I'll let you sit here if stop crying!" Heero's brows knitted together in a perfect scowl.
"I don't like you." She said softly.
"I don't like you too." Heero said. The girl burst out crying again and Heero's eyes widened as she sobbed into his shirt. Okaasan had just bought it as an early birthday present.
"Oi, get off me!" He warned darkly and for a five and a half year old boy, that was saying much. "Get off or I'll bite you!" He opened his mouth and was about to bite the girl when he thought better of it and sighed.
The girl stiffened at his words and drew back, trying to subside her tears. Heero noted she looked very pretty when she cried.
"Why are you crying anyway?" Heero asked seriously.
"I didn't catch the butter-fwy." The girl admitted, pouting. "It fyew away."
"Butterfly." Heero corrected her, shaking his head. "Flew away."
The girl harrumphed and crossed her albeit chubby hands on her chest.
"Baka." Heero said. The girl rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Her cheeks stained wet, she didn't look on the verge of crying anymore.
"Hey, what does that mean?"
Heero shrugged. "Okaasan said it was something bad."
"I'm not bad." The girl said.
"You cry too much."
"At least I know how to cry."
"I don't like you."
"I don't like you too."
Heero stared blankly at the girl before he reached out for her hand. "Open your palm."
The girl opened her hand and looked confusedly at him. "You want butterfly?"
The girl nodded happily, smiling. "Uh-huh." Heero opened his other hand and placed the butterfly on the girl's opened palm.
"Close your hand before it flies away."
The girl did so and flushed as Heero placed his hand over her hand in attempt to close her palm. "There. Now kiss me."
The girl gasped. "What? I can't do that!"
"Why not?" Heero asked.
"Because mommy said it's wrong."
"How come?"
"Well, I'm a boy and you're a boy also!"
Heero rolled his eyes. The girl was stupid. "You're not a boy." It certainly didn't show.
"I'm not?" The girl's hand was still beneath Heero's. "How didja know?"
"I'm smart." Heero said smugly.
"Really? I'll tell mommy later I'm not a boy." The girl pursed her lips together and assured him.
"Now can you kiss me?"
"Why?" The girl asked in the same confused tone.
"Because I gave you a butterfly."
"I didn't ask for it." The girl looked very annoyed.
"Yes you did."
"No I didn't."
"Do you want to play?"
"Play what?"
"With the butterfly?"
"Er…Sure."
Fin~
Author's notes:
It's pointless, I know but anyway I had to post some new material. I'd been busy lately! Sorry!
If you haven't read 'Teach Me How To Be Cool' yet then I advise you to, not that it's anything above ordinary—it has its perks but you'll get a huge deal about this fic.
It's kind of a like one-shot prequel I asked my friend Angie to read. Anyway, please review and if you already have read 'Teach Me How To Be Cool' then I really am sorry for not updating… I lost my beta-readers' emails right now and if any of my beta-readers are reading this then I please email me so you can edit chapter 11.
That said, I'm off.