The Girl in the Polka Dotted Rubber Boots
by Stessa.
It was such a rainy day.
The sky was greyer than Nate had seen it in a long time. The smog would normally do a good job at keeping the sky busy, but with the grey clouds covering the entry to heaven everywhere he looked, Nate knew that someone was more than angry today. It all fitted his mood perfectly, the clouds did, the rain did, he was feeling very grey himself – he hadn't felt like this for a very long time.
Maybe God was out to get him these days, because everything had gone shitty for him lately. He had been so down because of all the stuff happening in his family and personal life, and he honestly felt like everything would go wrong, no matter what he did.
All the crap that happened to him – it was all too much in his head, he had to get it out somehow so he could deal with it. He would normally talk to some of his friends about it; but Chuck wasn't the best listener and his advice was never good. They all involved dishonesty and they usually went wrong – at least in Nate's opinion.
He remembered when he used to talk to Vanessa about these things. Now, she listened and she gave good advice. She knew exactly what to say and she was able to comfort him and make him feel better with just a few touches. He loved her laugh and he smile so much. It was reassuring to hear her giggle. But he hadn't spoken to her for awhile now and he knew it was his own fault.
He thought about her a lot, he had to admit that. For some reason he couldn't help himself. He had really liked her, he'd believed they had a good thing going on, but sometimes things just don't turn out how you want them to. So he pretty much had to think about her whenever he needed comfort, and for some reason he had needed that a lot lately.
Vanessa Abrams.
Her name comforted him. It felt nice to say it out loud and let the words roll off his tongue in a mix of love and something more. He could picture her too, it was very easy because he had printed her eyes, her mouth, her hair and the way she moved into his brain. He could see her clearly when he closed his eyes. Sometimes, when he was about to fall asleep at night, he saw her face when he closed his eyes – it was right there, behind his eyelids. Every crack, every dimple and every unique colour; she was memorable, not just her look, but her personality too. There was just something about her,
Vanessa Abrams.
The street was full of umbrellas; they were all black and blue and grey. They, like the sky above him, fitted his mood. He felt grey on the inside. He needed something, a ray of sunlight, to get him through the day. He needed a great comic relief or something. Or maybe he just needed her… she'd know what to do, she'd give them something to talk about, give his empty life some meaning again.
He didn't have an umbrella. He was soaking wet and people were staring oddly at him. He didn't care. He had started not to care a long time ago. But their looks burned their way into his neck like fire, and it hurt him, bruised him. The rain trailed down his usually styled hair, droplets tickled the sensitive skin on his back as they dripped beneath his jacket.
He was aiming for the park.
He didn't know why, but he had felt like going out today. He didn't have anything specific to do, but fresh air and rain seemed like the perfect lunch to him. It was something she would have done;
That Vanessa Abrams.
There weren't as many people in the park. A lot of them had somewhere to be, somewhere to go, and that was why they were hurrying on beneath their horror umbrellas. That was why the park was a better place. It wasn't as crowded in there, but the people crossing through still hid in safety beneath their scary rain-covers. He was still the only one who wasn't hiding away. But he was tired of that, he was tired of bending beneath something safer, something he knew would only last for awhile, just because he was so scared of facing his real fears. Well, he wasn't going to hide away anymore. He was going to face everything head on; this was it. He just had to pick the right moment. Then he'd call her;
The sweet and beautiful Vanessa Abrams.
The rain wasn't as heavy beneath all the trees, but there were big puddles everywhere and the ground was pretty muddy. He felt like walking a bit more, so that was what he did. His steps were rather long and he felt warmer on the inside because of the satisfying heat. It made him feel slightly better to walk on in full speed, it felt like he got some of his aggressions out. It drove him insane and walking like that made him feel somewhat alright.
Ten minutes later he sat down on a bench. His jeans were full of mud stains, his sneakers were soaked through, he was shaking of cold mixed with something else, even if his pulse was thumping full speed, and his blood was streaming trough his vein quickly. He could feel his heart beating almost as if Vanessa had been there, touching him, kissing him, filming him with her infamous video camera.
He remembered how her face used to light up in joy when she talked about filming and film school. She also liked to talk about literature, and he did that too himself; it was so nice when she went to apologize to him for her judgement; it was nice to know that she thought more of him than just as him being a rich kid. It was awesome that she could see him like that; because he liked to believe that he was deeper than just his looks.
Nate stretched his legs out and leaned his head back; he watched the sky as it broke out, rain fell down, the sky cried heavier than it had done in a long time, and the rain hit him in big droplets, slid down the bridge of his nose and into his mouth; it tasted salty and for a moment he wondered if he might be crying too. He reached a finger up and brushed it beneath his eyes; he couldn't tell water from tears, but something spilled down his cheeks and he reached both hands up, pressed the balls of them into both eyes and groaned, got his frustrations out.
He needed Vanessa; he needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen to him and be there for him. She would, and she was just what he needed.
Oh, Vanessa Abrams.
He let his arms fall to rest on the bench and stared straight ahead again; people kept passing by him, kept doing their everyday things; they had to be somewhere, so they went ahead and waltzed there; did their funny dances, their everyday choreographed moves. Nate wasn't sure if this was a musical he really wanted to take part in; not if he had had a choice, but he had somehow ended up here, stuck in this Broadway show, he'd have to make the best of it, have to enjoy the life he had somehow been given, even if it wasn't the easiest things in the world.
Vanessa would know what to do.
She'd join the cast and their boring routines and somehow make them funny. She'd make them her own and get the life she wanted even if she felt like she didn't belong, that she was put in the wrong ensample.
Nate looked around at the grey shadows clouding his vision with horror and ghosts from the past. He wondered if his co-stars would mind if he changed his routine, if he broke out of their directed agreement. He squeezed his eyebrows together and made a decision: he didn't care what they thought, what they wanted. This was important to him, it was his own life and he could do as he pleased. The only thing he could really do right now was jump onto the bench he sat at.
So that was what he did.
He stood on both his legs and looked around the park. Everything seemed much clearer from up there: the air was light, but the rain fell harder. He thought straighter from where he stood. He could see all of the open umbrellas and from there he could see nothing of the people beneath; there were only circles of horror and it scared him to know that people were so afraid of themselves that they had to hide like that.
He stretched his arms out, embraced the rain as God cried his sins to mankind. It felt good to stand like that, to break free of norms and society. It was a new Nate Archibald standing there, a Nate ready to face the world and all, all the fears he had.
He took another glance down the stage and expected to see the actors dressed in their usual attire, but something was different. Someone else was breaking out; someone else had decided to go different about it and suddenly Nate wasn't to scared anymore. It seemed more doable when someone else was doing it as well.
All he could see was a top of a head. Someone else didn't have an umbrella and was soaking wet like Nate himself. He wanted to know this person, wanted to speak to it so he could know what to do, get an acquaintance who felt like him. He took notice of the direction and jumped off of the bench, ran off as fast as he could. He excused himself when he almost bumped into the dancers, and when he saw the next bench, he jumped onto it to make sure that he was on the right track. He could still see that someone and he was getting closer, so he continued on, moving faster as he ran, felt the rain hit him in the face. He jumped slightly and saw that he was almost there, slowed down and followed that someone (a beautiful girl, he believed) close behind.
He was almost blinded by the dark and his determination, but suddenly a ray of light made its way through his cloudy mind. He blinked, thinking it might be a creation of his imagination, but suddenly it peeked through again between the mess of muddy legs.
It was pink.
Pink rubber boots with green polka dots.
Nate couldn't help but smile. She had her rubber boots on. And they made a grin come to his face because they were just what he needed. Rubber boots in pink to push away all the horror umbrellas. This girl was more intriguing than Nate had tried before, and he could almost forget Vanessa as he followed that girl out of the park.
When he entered the street fully, he had troubles following her, the rain seemed to have stopped slightly, he lost her, and Nate's mood had just made a one-eighty. He had gone from depressed to ecstatic to sad in just a few minutes, and now he needed a cup of coffee to cheer himself up.
He crossed the street and opened the door to the nearest coffee shop; a nice smell hit his nostrils and he had the urge to shed off all of his clothes to let it dry. But suddenly he wasn't too brave anymore; he wasn't ready to change his routine and break out; he was a part of the cast and even if he wanted to, it was easier said than done to break free.
He spotted a free table in the back and quickly made his way through the tables with horror umbrellas resting against them, and took a seat.
He pulled his jacket off, but left the rest of his clothes on. He grabbed the menu card and let himself obsess in the idea of coffee and which one to choose. Studying the different kinds, he heard someone stop right next to him.
"Nate."
He looked up and had to brush some rain away from his eyes before he was able to trust his vision. But it was Vanessa Abrams smiling down at him, a cup of take-away-coffee in each hand.
"Vanessa." He said, and felt himself smile.
He gave her a once-over and couldn't help but grin goofily. There they were.
The polka dotted rubber boots.
It had a poll on my profile and quite a few people wanted me to write a NatexVanessa story. It wasn't too hard for me, since I've played with this idea for a little while now. I hope you liked it. It's this new thing I'm trying, so tell me your honest opinion.
Disclaimer; I don't own Gossip Girl.