A/N: I wrote this, hmm, you could say for a friend. A new friend :)
Plus, I do not own Professor Layton or whatever else you have to say in a disclaimer.
Anyways~! Enjoy!
A young Hershel Layton sat down by the side of the river which lived just next to his house. He'd sat down with a book he'd read a thousand times over, and still couldn't get enough of the ending.
He sat at the edge of the river bank, his shoes off along with his socks, and his trousers rolled up slightly so that they exposed his ankles as he let his feet dip into the river.
The water brushed over his skin gently, the texture feeling so smooth against him. He would flinch occasionally when a twig or a leaf tickled his foot. He nearly lost his page a number of times to twigs and leaves brushing against him and surprising him. Soon enough though, he got used to it like he always did and began to enjoy the feel of nature.
Hershel had gotten so used to the peace and quiet, with just the water flow sounds and the occasional page turn that he didn't notice the loud flamboyant red-head run up to him.
"Heeersheelll! Heeershel!" The red-head had called. He had a small piece of paper in his hand and was ready to give it to the other, but in a different way than usual. He'd planned to stuff it in his afro. Hershel himself didn't actually hear his voice. He was too engrossed in his book to notice. Randall rolled his eyes and walked closer to him, eventually crouching right next to him. He took in the way Hershel looked so at peace and at the same time, so serious about reading.
Surprisingly and unsurprisingly though, the reading fanatic still hadn't noticed Randall's presence. Randall rolled his eyes, wondering how he could be that oblivious to notice.
Randall got himself in a comfier position and ruffled Hershel's hair roughly, scrunching up the small piece of paper in his hand as he did so.
"Ah!" Hershel exclaimed, falling back softly onto the grass. "Ahaha, Hershel, you're such a klutz." Randall laughed. "You shoved me!" Hershel counter-argued, sitting back up and staring at Randall intently.
"Hmph." Hershel sighed, trying to find the place in his book which he lost once colliding with the ground. Eventually he found it, luckily enough for him he had a good memory and re-opened his book.
Randall sighed and didn't want to have to get Hershel's attention again, so he used his little scrap of paper and pretended to put it in Hershel's afro. Hershel flinched and looked straight at Randall who just gave him a goofy grin. "Were you going to hide a puzzle in my hair?" Hershel asked once spotting the crumpled paper in Randall's hand. Randall rolled his eyes. "Not once I saw how serious you looked reading." He said quietly, taking Hershel's book from him (Which he was surprised he let him do.) And slipping the paper in between the pages he was reading, then closing the book between it.
"Makes a nice bookmark, eh?" Randall said, giving Hershel a closed-eyes smile. Hershel laughed softly, but it came out more as a hum and Randall loved that.
Hershel put his book by his side and then decided to lay down on the grass. He still had his feet dipping into the river, but now only just.
Randall looked at Hershel's laying form. Still so peaceful. He wondered how he maintained that calm, but he brushed it away quickly.
Randall slipped off his own shoes and socks, and then rolled up the ends of his trousers so that they to exposed his ankles. He dipped his feet in the river and hissed quietly at its coldness. 'How can he even put up with that? I thought he preferred warm places over cold ones. Like a tea over a lemonade even if it was scorching.' Randall thought, but brushed the hypothesis away before laying down next to Hershel.
The book lay discarded in the grass as three hours later, the two teens were pointing upwards and saying things like: "What are you talking about!? That cloud does look like you!" And: "It does not! It looks like that old shovel I once had!"
The two teens laughed simultaneously at their pathetic jokes about clouds. Soon enough the laughter continued to bubble up until they were almost crying. Randall could barely remember the last time Hershel acted like an actual teenager. Or acted simply like this, laughing without a care.
The two of them laughed enough to end up rolling onto their sides. Their feet just above the surface of the river water and bumping into each others slightly.
Both of them held a small pink flush in their cheeks when they realised their closeness.
Hershel tried to squirm away slightly, but Randall grabbed onto his wrist, keeping him in place.
Randall had decided, you could say.
Angela's a nice girl.
The two of them leaned in closer and slowly.
But I guess she just isn't the one for me.
The gap between the two teenage boys closed and it was bliss for both of them.
He's the only one for me.
He's the only one for me.
A/N: I'd just like to point out, for those last thee lines in italics, it's Randall's thoughts, Randall's thought's, Randall and then Hershel's thoughts. :)
Did you enjoy it? :)