Author's Notes: Inspired by Metro Station's "Seventeen Forever."
Tomorrow is Ventus' birthday. Any other year, and we'd be celebrating like we always do: during the day, Ven will invite over every friend he has, and he has dozens. They'll laugh and make a big show of cutting the cake together, and Ven's two best friends, Aqua and Terra, will mash the cake in his face. Everyone's happy.
I always sit away from the group. I never even turn on the TV, because that would be probable cause for someone to mosey on over and bug me. Usually I bring over a book or comic to read. If it's been a particularly stressful year, I'll bring a little notebook and scratch out the same word or phrase over and over. Every few seconds the lead will break, and I'll be angry, but I won't make a sound.
Until later, when everyone's left. This is our time. When Ven shuts the door behind the last of his party guests, he'll look over at me, and my eyes will already be on him. They've been on him all day. I take his hand and we run down the darkened street to this huge clearing bordered by the tallest trees, so no one can really see us. It's in the middle of the city so we can't see the stars as clearly as I'd like to, but we lie back, regardless, and we give the splotches in the sky each their own name.
On the eve of his birthday this year, Ven starts our tradition early. We're out among the trees before the sun has even set. We're venturing out farther than we've ever been; we've run down this street for so long that its name changes and Ven laughs because we're lost. My head hurts from all the noise of the busy street and I want to scream. But I'm happy because he's happy, so I vent my screams out to the traffic.
We backtrack to Ven's house, and even farther back to my own. Ven persuades me to drive him somewhere. Anywhere. I drive, and he tells me not to ever stop.
He's turning eighteen tomorrow, and he's afraid.
There's a fast food joint coming up on my left and I take the turn before my irresistible blond companion can protest. I toss him a salad from the drive-thru, and he leans over to kiss my cheek. He's not thanking me for the salad, either, because he hates anything but homemade; he picks out the tomatoes and croutons and dips them in the dressing. The rest he leaves for me. By kissing me, then buckling up in the middle seat, he's really making up for not kissing me all day.
I clench the wheel in my hands and tear the receipt out of the cashier's hand.
I park the car as close as I can to the bridge downtown, and the sky across it gleams in pinks and purples. As we eat our food, his words zoom right over my head, but it's nice to hear his voice. He's passionate about his studies, so I bask in the sound of his voice.
Tomorrow, Ven will be gone; he's attending some big-shot university in the fall. It's a million miles away, in some town I've never even heard of. These are the memories he'll keep; the ones that will warm and burn him on those late nights reclining in his dorm room.
What amazes me even more than his G.P.A. is his ability to see right through me.
He kisses my cheek again, intentionally smearing some leftover ranch from his lips. I roll my eyes, but he can't see it, so I turn and bring his face to mine. I avoid his eyes; I can feel the wetness beginning to pour from them with my thumbs. Rubbing his cheeks, I pull him closer until I can't breathe.
Our chests are so close that I can feel Ven's heart thrumming wildly against mine.
Together on the bridge, we watch the last rays of the sunset. I'm observing Ven more than I'm watching the sky; I've seen it a million times, but this could be the last time I see it with Ven. His palms are resting on the rail, and he's standing on tiptoe. He blue eyes are calm, but the twist of his smile betrays him.
Back at Ven's house after our long evening, I turn off the car. Now we don't even have the radio to break the silence, and panic rises in my throat.
I'm scared, too, but Ven kisses me. Again and again.
As Ven pulls open the door, his feet slipping soundlessly to the ground beneath him, he turns back to me and asks, "Will you remember me?"
"Remember what?" I say, and when I bend down to meet his lips, our last kiss is the longest.
