(author's note : hello! back for more roselysander? :] this was written for the nextgen S U N S E T S competition on the HPFC. this didn't exactly turn out the way i had wanted it to, but it turned out nicely in my opinion! although, it came out short and kind of abstract with the dialogue. i've also always imagined lysander and lorcan to take more after luna, and rose to be a bit of ron and hermione, so try to think of them that way - i know nextgen characters are bordering OC territory. i hope you enjoy it, though! it's really almost like a pre-requisite or prologue or whatever to my dear, it's just along the shoreline. read it like that, and you'll have fun. thanks! by the way, i don't own night on the sun by modest mouse or harry potter.)
night on the sun
- i'm hopelessly hopeless [i hope so] for you.
He had thrown himself into the water, forgetting about tucking his chin and pushing himself forward with his arms and all the rest of the nonsense that he didn't care for.
"Lysander, sometimes you make me wonder. If you told me you loved me with all your heart, you'd be lying."
Rose's hair of fire melded with the sky hovering above her head. The silver haired boy came forth from the cool water, water dripping from his nose, lending him a childish appearance.
"Why would you say that?"
"Nothing can separate you and swimming."
Slivered mountains of black faded into the scarlet skies, flames licking from the reaching arms of the trees towards the sky above them. Different silhouettes were painted so dexterously against the red curtain of smoke, the slowly waning sun behind them, with each tree branch twirling like ivy around the air, thick with a humble nightfall.
It wasn't as nearly as warm as it could have been.
Standing still in such chilly September water, Lysander's ankles were licked at by the cold, his hipbones, ribcage and chest – the remainders – were danced upon by stirring wind, and lost drops of water. In the sunset, his clear eyes were wheat-coloured, lovely picture frames of pretty photographs to Rose.
"Will you swim with me?" he asked, his voice ever-so calm, even with an icy temperate surrounding his pallid skin. "I swear the water's fine. Trust me."
He extended his hand out to the redheaded girl, and a fish of some sort found its way by his bony ankles, slipping just past his mirroring skin. She grasped the offer, and he pulled her in. One foot, then both, found the way to the cold, rippling water of the lake.
"I don't know how you can stand this," said Rose, smiling regardless of the ice nettling at her skin.
"I used to come out here a lot with Lorcan when we were younger. So did Mum. Dad doesn't really get it though, but he's always liked the warm better than the cold."
He waded forward, her hand still in his, until the water was up to his bare torso. He turned towards her to see her teeth chattering. He smiled.
"Don't laugh at me!"
"Promise you, I'm not."
He pulled her close to his body, where his body, so unnaturally warm, pressed to hers. She could feel herself warming gradually, until she was comfortable once more. He lifted her, so her legs wrapped around his waist, and began walking forward some more.
"Just relax," he said, lowering into the water. He felt her body tighten, before plainly relaxing into his arms as he held her a little closer. His forehead against hers, they were engulfed in a cool blue world, full of fragmented light and consuming shadows.
Underwater, they were the closest thing to mermaids. Patterns of lakewater-caught light danced in round-edged orange pirouettes upon their legs. With bodies parallel to the sky and everything enveloped underneath it, everything it oddly euphoric while suspended indefinitely, wrapped in water. Rose felt herself detach from Lysander's warmth only briefly, her feet brushing the bottom of the lake. She turns around on spot, her chest feeling tight, and notices the flash of white that she could only associate with the unnaturally pale boy.
Pearl-like bubbles just barely escape from between his mouth, before her very own set of lips brush up against his.
Their eyes were closed and their heads still pressed together, though this time on the tall rocks before the water. Lysander held her hand and together, they have some kind of feeling that's almost as beautiful as the purple shimmer on the water's edge, pink casing on the clouds before the sun, the same shade of pink on Rose's fingernails.
She shivered, a miniscule stream, gliding down the careful form of her spine, and his eyes were the first to open.
"What are you thinking about, Rose?"
"You."
"I like detailed answers."
"You won't love me."
"I might."