Creeping off the mattress, leaving Jonesy undisturbed, Nikki slid her feet into her favorite bedside slippers and slowly moved through her hallway. She caught sight of herself in a large, rectangular mirror on one of the paisley wallpaper-plastered walls, as she always did. But instead of glancing at her reflection and walking on like she normally did to fix herself some breakfast, she tried picturing herself as a teenager again.
The grey hair with a streak of white hanging past her shoulders became purple and lilac again, just as vibrant as it was in her youth. Her various bags and wrinkles faded away, her skin now tight (and acne-prone) again. Her bare eyelids were adorned in purple eyeshadow and eyeliner. Her actual skin creased as she smiled, remembering her various piercings. The ones on her eyebrows, the one in her nose, the one she got on her tongue for her eighteenth birthday, and the one she got on her bellybutton while in college.
Her smile remained.
Oh, her rebellious years. Oh, her youth.
With each passing day, she became more nostalgic. She yearned to live just one day of her young adulthood again. Stepping away from the mirror, she poked her head into the bedroom again, looking at Jonesy, who was wrapped up in the sheets.
Oh, the two of them in their youth.
She laughed (but would've snorted if a cough didn't get in the way).
After all this time, she couldn't believe the two of them had fallen in love. They were so different, and yet so alike. Fiddling with the gold band and its small diamond on her left ring finger, she thought about how passionate and bold his kisses had been. In recent years, his kisses became soft and endearing.
But she couldn't think about their younger selves without thinking about her move to Nunavut. It had been a trying time in their relationship, with all the missed calls and brief conversations over text messages and the video chats spent yearning for one another's touch—which is why she hadn't hesitated in moving back to Toronto for university, for the gang, for Jonesy. Reminiscing on all the time they'd spent "catching up" made heat rise in her cheeks, a mischievous smile gracing her lips.
She played around with her wedding ring again, the most romantic moment of her life playing like an old film in her head. She'd always known Jonesy loved her, always known they'd get married someday, but when he'd proposed to her that summer—the summer they were through with university, when she had planned on traveling through Western Europe with him—it had been the most magical night of her life.
She slowly spun around and walked to one side of the hallway, the side where an assortment of picture frames hung. She wiped the dust off one photo in particular—their wedding photograph. She typically hated anything too extravagant, yet their wedding ceremony was the one extravagant—no, precious—thing she was fond of.
Jen had been her maid of honor, and Jonesy had chosen Jude to be his best man. She chuckled—the two of them had been a little (very) drunk and cozy the night of the wedding reception. It shouldn't have been a surprise that the two of them started dating days afterward (and married each other years later).
Below the photo of her and Jonesy as newlyweds were some photos of the gang altogether. She studied one for a moment, concluding that it'd been taken while they were in university. They were all smiling alongside the man of the night: Wyatt. It was his first concert as a solo artist, even if Marlowe remained his bassist (and girlfriend until they broke up for the second and final time).
She remembered when Jonesy used to tease him about writing his first song about his mom, yet, years later, he'd been proud that Wyatt made his lifelong dreams come true.
They had all been proud of Wyatt. They had all been proud of each other.
Being friends since childhood and seeing each other grow up, it—
A hot tear ran down her cheek, and she pressed her palm over her mouth, stifling her empty sob.
It was bittersweet.
Somewhere along the road, they had become old. They lost the fun and spontaneity of youth, instead taking on the responsibilities of having careers and being parents and now grandparents. Their summer days of joy and summer nights of romance seemed so long ago. Because they were long ago. The girl she used to be was but a memory. In fact, everything all of their teenage selves were but a memory. But through it all, they all stayed committed to each other, committed to their friendships, never letting them crumble.
After wiping away the tears that fell, she found herself startled by an arm around her waist. Looking up, she saw Jonesy beside her. She didn't bother asking why he would startle her like that, or how he managed to walk so softly.
She just stood to the best of her abilities on her tippy-toes and gave him a kiss. One that reminded her of her youth.
Oh, their youth.
A/N: This one-shot happened because I listened to "Old Money" by Lana Del Rey too much. I hope this wasn't too sad. I just thought it'd be interesting to play with the idea of the gang being out of their youth. They can't stay sixteen forever anyways.