I don't really know where I meant to go with this, I was just bored late last night so this was produced. With a weird mixture of Rocky and the staircase-full-of-strangers proposal. Oh, and Not Another Teen Movie. POV changes to third person around halfway through... I'm not really sure why. Well, tell me if you liked or puked I suppose.
Sometimes you just have to throw yourself out there. Take a dive, act on selfish impulse, make a mistake. Step off the train two stops from yours just because the sun's come out and it's still raining. Bask in life's sunshowers.
Who knew the Metropolitan Museum of Art had stairs leading up to it just like in Rocky? And as I'm huffing and puffing my way to the top, planting swift jabs to thin air, you're shaking your head at me from the bottom, scarf wrapped around as much of your neck and face as it would cover in the biting New York air. I don't need to turn as I reach the top and shake my fists in the air in triumph, bouncing from one foot to the other, to know that you're laughing at my stupidity. But, of course, that's always what I want.
There are only about a dozen people outside today, two of whom are just standing outside the museum by the railing for a quick smoke. You're planted just thirty steps down, arms crossed tightly across your chest, but you're still smirking back up at me. Suddenly I decide to take a dive, act on a possibly selfish impulse, and surely make a mistake. I open my arms wide and prepare to embrace the impact.
"Hey, Perry!" I shout down to you; voice a reassuring confidence that betrays my real feelings. Now everyone is looking at me, twenty-four eyes to judge my next move. Oh well, I asked for it really: now here goes the dive.
"What would you do if I proposed to you right now?" No semi to run me over, not just yet at least.
I see your eyes widen in surprise for a second but you quickly recover.
"Why, Lucy, I'd have to ask why you had to half-ass the staircase-in-front-of-all-these-strangers-setting." You call back, grinning.
A little more than half the crowd laughs at this, all ears trained to our shout-conversation.
"What are you talking about? Any staircase in New York City could show up the tallest staircase in any movie when I'm with you..." I say in a dreamy voice that induces a mixture of "Aww's" and laughs from the onlookers.
You roll your eyes with a full smile gracing your lips that I know brands you for life as mine. Beginning the climb, you take two steps at a time and I capture your lips in a kiss halfway. I know this dive was most definitely not a mistake as your fingers weave themselves into my hair and my hands fall into place at your waist.
Up on top of the stone staircase, one of the guys near the museum entrance looks down on the pair of doctors. 'This is my time,' he thinks, gazing around at all the other people on the stairs as if they're being so blind by not realizing it, 'This is the right time!' Snuffing his cigarette out on the concrete wall, he starts forward, his hands rising up before him, slowly about to bring them together.
Clap.
Out steps a security guard from the front door of the museum, hands clasped, slow clap initiated.
Clap.
A few more hands have joined in.
Clap.
Everyone's clapping.
And as JD and Dr. Cox finally pull away to the sight of a security guard being loaded into an ambulance with what resembles a cigarette burn mark just below his left eye and a bleeding lip, a young man with a glare on his face fit to kill handcuffed against a police car, and three people being interrogated by a police officer, JD looks back to Dr. Cox.
"New York is weird, let's get the hell back to Sacred Heart."