A/N: So, I decided to conform to the masses and do a Taylor Swift songfic. Again, so maybe it's not really conforming, but re-conforming… And if I decide to do it because it's fun, am I independent, or does that mean I have internalised the opinions and ideals of FanFiction without realising it? Darn you, Psychology!
Anyway, my songfics are back on form, unlike those appalling ones I wrote for Noughts and Crosses… I rather like this one. :D It's based on Mine, in case you didn't realise from the title. :P It's also AU – Chad and Sonny live in Wisconsin.
It's also dedicated to my English teacher, Ms Fairburn, who is abandoning us in July to have a baby! She's an amazing teacher and we all love her. She's on my Facebook list of inspiring people. It I could be like her when I grow up, I'd be pretty happy.
On with the story! WARNING: major cheese!
Mine
I waltz into the cosy café, my head lost in my copy of Wuthering Heights. I'm meant to be writing an essay on imagery in the novel, but Cathy and Heathcliff's romance is far more interesting. I know I'm studying the novel, but this book is fast becoming my favourite.
I sit down at an empty table-for-two and take out my notes and a pad of paper. I work much better with a cappuccino and brownie than I do with the poor lighting of my room at home. My phone moos and I glance down to see a text from Lucy.
Good luck with Fairburn's essay. ;) Text me if you need help. :P
I roll my eyes and turn my phone off. Lucy's help would drop my grade to a C.
'Can I get you anything?' the waiter asks, with a voice that reminds me of runny honey. I look up and meet deep blue eyes. My heart skips a beat.
/0I0I0\
'Can you believe it's been a year?' I ask.
'What? You didn't think I'd last it?' he smirks.
'Never! Not with your player reputation, anyway,' I say slyly.
'I am not a player!'
'Are too!'
'Am not!'
'Are too!'
'D2.'
'Shut up.'
'Fine!'
'Fine!'
'Good!'
'Good!'
And next thing I know, his lips are on mine.
'Move in with me.'
/0I0I0\
We spent endless days at Green Bay, lying in the sand and playing like children. Just Friends, apparently. And then one day, out of the blue, he put his arm around me. I hold onto that moment forever.
/0I0I0\
It's moving day. We've fought off the world, hand in hand. Everyone said, 'She's only eighteen – she should go to college.' But we stood firm.
I wander round his – our – room, and search through his things. I find his journal full of notes on Shakespeare, Bronte, Dickens, Fitzgerald, Orwell… And under that, a collection of things belonging to me. A rubber with 'C + S 4eva' etched onto it. A photograph of me and him together at the park, cut out in the shape of a heart. My purity ring. A photograph and frame with shattered glass of me and my family. The photo is ripped slightly where my dad ends and my mum begins, right down the middle.
'We're never making those mistakes, Sonny. We can learn from them,' he whispers from behind me. And beneath my tears, I smile.
/0I0I0\
We've got nothing figured out… Our first energy bill comes through and neither of our wages can pay it plus the rent. I get an extra job after-hours at the library, holding onto that moment with his arm around me.
/0I0I0\
And suddenly, it's 2am and we're fighting because we might get evicted and he lost out on a promotion and everything's falling apart.
'Maybe you'd be better off without me!' I scream at him.
'Maybe I would!' he yells back.
I stop stunned. We stare at each other for an eternity. And then I run out crying, almost into the path of an oncoming car.
But there are arms, arms pulling me back. I'm pressed to his chest and he whispers, 'I'll never, ever leave you. You remember Lake Michigan? I still feel that way about you. Nothing's going to change that. Ever. You're the best thing I've ever had.'
/0I0I0\
And now, it's marriage and kids and I do an evening course and I'm a comedienne and we move house and people accept us as we are and life falls into place. It's a bubble, but it's our bubble. He's mine.
/0I0I0\
I blink. It wasn't real… But I can see it – so clearly.
'I can see it now…' I murmur. So I take a leap of faith. 'I'll have a cappuccino, please.'