A/n: My first story in a long, long while. But I was impulsively forced to create it? Perhaps out of wanting to share the thoughts I have while I'm with my love? I know a little bit more about love now –so hopefully I can write it better than I could before.
Why does a twenty-one year old live at home? Out of school for the summer. Another thing, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a five year age gap. Trust me. I know from my own experiences. As long as you're in the same place in life, make each other happy, and want the same things from a relationship –age will remain merely a number. Besides! This is Mulder and Scully we're talking here! This may be an AU, but they're still just as much in love as they would be in any other story.
Ps. I didn't proof read. I just want to get this posted to see how people will react.
Chapter One.
It was the summer of 2010, a summer which would change two young lives forever. Once they met, they were swept up into a whirlwind of fate brewed together with love. She was sixteen, and he was twenty one. Despite the varying age difference, they were set on each other –though not at first.
It was an unusually hot June afternoon. Humidity clung in the air and the thermometer read a scorching eighty two degrees, something you were more likely to see in mid-July. Dana Scully, a sixteen year old girl wiser than her years laid lazily in her back yard waiting for her best friend, Monica, to arrive. Her friend was usually late. She was clad in a pale yellow sundress and flip flops. Her collar bone length hair, which could best be described as an in-between orange and auburn shade, was neatly tucked behind her ears. She debated on pulling it up off of her neck, but that would include her fetching a hair tie from somewhere in her room, and in that heat, she wasn't going anywhere. She was hoping to gain somewhat of a tan from laying there on her back deck, but she knew otherwise. Her translucent skin was more likely to burn than tan without the help of some sort of tanning oil or lotion. She took out her ear buds in hope that she would soon hear Monica treading up the steps of her deck. No such luck though, for her ears were only now filled with the sounds of the neighbors moving in next door.
"Fox!" She heard a woman, presumably Fox's mother, call out. "Go help your father with your bed." Scully couldn't help but giggle at the boy's name. She felt as if she was going delirious from the heat.
'That's not a real name,' she whispered to herself.
"What's not a real name?" Monica was standing at the top of the wooden steps staring at her best friend, who was lounging on the dark wicker sofa. Monica was strangely different from Scully. For one thing, her hair could not have been more different, the darkest shade of brown ever –nearly black. She wore shorts and a beater rather than a dress. It was more than just appearance though which strikingly contrasted against her best friend since pre-K. Her whole personality was Scully's –turned upside down.
"Some guy… the uh… new neighbor… his name's Fox? Come on, that's not real."
"Well, that guy doesn't look real. Trust me." Scully raised her eye brow. "He's…." She was at a lost for words. "He's definitely Hollywood quality and mysterious looking. I saw him come out of his garage. Gorgeous."
Even before Scully heard Monica utter, 'Gorgeous' she was already making her way into her house to the dining room, which contained a window overlooking the front yard.
"Where is he?" Scully asked, peering unobtrusively out of the sheer curtain.
"Hmm… he must've gone inside. Let's go do something."
For the rest of the day, Scully forgot about the mysterious boy next door with the mysterious name. She and Monica headed over to the mall and didn't return until around seven, by then the neighbors were fully moved in and the moving truck was probably long gone back to wherever it was that they came from. Scully departed from her friend and made her way into her house and then into her bedroom, where she sat her bags down and collapsed on her bed. She sighed heavily at how wonderful the cold sheets felt against her bare skin. Suddenly, her moment was interrupted by her doorbell. She waited a few moments, not hearing the door open, and then she heard it ring a second time. Apparently, her family was not home. She sighed, this time not blissfully, and made her way out of her room, down the stair case and to the front door. She saw some sort of figure through the window but it was distorted. She pulled the door open and there he was. She knew it was him. Why was he there?
"Hi?" She said after they stared at each other for a few painful seconds.
"Oh, sorry… I'm Mulder."
"Mulder?" Maybe it wasn't the boy er friend described. Besides, he looked much more like a man now that she thought of it.
"Well, Fox… Mulder's my last name. Nevermind… anyways, my mom made me bring you back this." He extended a casserole dish out to Scully, through the threshold. "It was good –the casserole." He almost seemed more nervous and shy than she was. "Sorry if I interrupted anything."
"N-no," she stuttered on her words and then mentally attacked herself for doing so. "You didn't."
"Well, good. Have a nice night." He spun on his feel and walked down the steps of her porch. Part of her wanted to call him back, ask him where he used to live, how old he was, his interests, how he got stuck with such a peculiar name, why he was so gorgeous. But she didn't; she only closed the front door and went to go grab her phone to text Monica about their awkward situation.
He was beautiful she mused, as she laid on her bed. His skin was nicely tanned. His hair was a perfect brown, not dark or light –just normal brown, but somehow he made in extraordinary. His eyes, captivating. A ring of deep blue hung around the dark green. A sunflower. There was a sunflower around his black pupil, a fiery ring ochre surrounding it, engulfing it. His bottom lip jutted out as his top was thin. His bottom was as plump as the top was skinny. His nose, it was plastered onto his face as if by accident. It wasn't distastefully large, but in an odd way, just the right size, but sort of big all the same? He didn't belong in Hollywood. Monica was wrong with that description. He belonged in an indie flick. His beauty was mysterious –not in any way conventional. It was confusing in a way. He made her want to stare at him all day just to think 'What exactly makes you so ridiculously attractive?' The thought was torture to her. His face was on her mind the whole rest of the night.
taken well? my boyfriend's eye is like a sunflower... Mulder's is too.
-AK.