Shattering
A/N: This story involves gender-bending and crack pairings: if you don't like these things, you need not read any further.
Chapter 1
He never saw her coming. He was just sitting there, sipping some sort of colorful drink at the campus karaoke bar, and then there she was:
"I haven't seen you around before: you don't come here very often, do you?"
"Huh?" he jumped, turning to see a thin young woman with long midnight-black hair leaning against the back of his chair, grinning at him, her arms crossed under her chin.
"Oh... not really, no: this is actually the first time I've been here."
"Are you trying to forget something?"
"Erm... not really. At least, nothing worth drinking myself into a stupor to forget."
"But you do have something you'd rather forget, huh?"
"Well... I didn't get accepted at choir tryouts."
She winces a little, the smile leaving her face for a moment:
"Oooooo... ouch. I'm sorry."
"That's okay. I can always try again some other time, right?"
"Yeah."
"Have you ever been part of any school groups or events?"
"Well, Mom wants me to be part of the choir. She thinks I'd be just wonderful in it, but I don't believe that I'm all that prepared to join it yet."
"Oh? Parental pressure. The only thing worse than peer pressure."
She laughs:
"More positive, most of the time, but it's not easy to resist, particularly since she's the head of music on-campus."
"Oh my! You're her daughter?"
She blushes a little, burying her face in her arms and then lifting it and saying:
"Well, yes."
"I'm so sorry! I should have recognized you! There is such a family resemblance."
"That's alright. There's no real reason that you should."
"Your mother is the head of the music department, and there's no real reason I should recognize you?"
"I don't really like being defined by my family's influence on the campus."
"I see."
Suddenly it strikes him that he's a young man, this young woman has taken an interest in him, and he hasn't even been polite or chivalrous yet. He quickly and clumsily stands, setting his drink down to the side and offering her his seat. She giggles:
"Well, there are other open seats. Thank you for offering, though."
She sits down in the seat next to his: he almost wants to kick himself. There was another seat open the whole time, and he didn't notice it at all. All he noticed was how pretty she is. He tries a different polite action:
"Erm... so... can I buy you a drink?"
"I don't drink very often."
In any other circumstance, he'd be worried he'd offended, but she's smiling, so he's pretty sure he hasn't.
"Oh... coffee? Tea? A soda?"
She's blushing a little.
They talk until the bar closes: he learns that she is studying in medicine and music at the same time, her intention being to major in the former of the two, that she likes tea more than alcoholic beverages, that she's seen pretty much everything there is to see on campus, taken at least one class in twice as many crafts as he could ever hope to learn. She's full of energy and life, and she makes him smile: for a few hours, he even forgets the fact that he didn't make it into the choir.
It's last call for the night when he realizes he hasn't asked her name yet.
"Eh... I forgot to ask your name."
"Adrena."
"Oh. My name is Fletcher."
"Nice to meet you." She smiles, then stands and gives him a hug.
They exchange numbers, and go their separate ways to their dorms.
The next few days are fairly quiet. He hasn't heard from her since they met at the bar, and he's starting to think that maybe he got it wrong, maybe she wasn't actually interested at all. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, just as he's getting out of Literature, his last class of the day, his phone rings:
"Hey. It's Adrena. Just calling to see how you're doing."
"Oh. I'm good. Just got done with my classes for the day."
"Neat! Me too!"
"Oh. Wanna meet up somewhere?"
"Where at?"
"How about," he pauses, thinks for a moment, then suggests, "Idris Park?"
Well if that doesn't sound flirty, I don't even know what does. Great job, Fletcher: you probably creeped her out.
"Sounds great! What time did you want to meet?"
"How about 6:15?"
"Alright! I'll see you then?"
"Okay!"
Although he knows they're not meeting until 6:15, he gets to the park as early as he can and does homework until she shows up, 15 minutes early, wearing a black tank top, loose brown coat and sweat pants. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, away from her face, and he really sees her eyes for the first time: they're dark-gray, and so deep you could get lost in them. She notices him staring, and she blushes, averting her gaze and nudging the ground with her toe awkwardly.
"D—did you have dinner before you came," he stammers, "or... or would you like to grab a bite to eat with me?"
"I didn't, actually: I was going to offer, too."
"Er... I... I'll buy."
She shakes her head: "It's alright: I will."
"No, I insist."
Finally, they agree to split the cost: they wander for a while before they finally find a food vendor with his cart in the park. They each get a corn dog and a lemonade. They continue on their way, eating their dinner: occasionally, Adrena will point out something that Fletcher wouldn't even have noticed, like the colors blending into one another on the petals of a flower, or the patterns in a spiderweb. At those moments, she lights up like the Fourth of July, and he just stares, thinking how pretty her smile is. They keep wandering through the park, alongside the stream that cuts the park nearly in two, and she points out the different shapes amongst the pebbles at the water's edge. They cross the bridge over the stream, and she's leaning her head on his shoulder, and her hand is in his. And then the lights come on: the pathways around Idris Park are decorated year-round with twined strings of white Christmas lights strung between the lampposts, and their twinkling reflects off of her eyes in such a way that they turn bright as starlight, almost striking him temporarily blind, and capturing his attention completely. There's someone playing guitar for tips on the edge of the fountain in the center of the park: she tugs him along to dance to the music, and he's vaguely reminded of the movie Tangled. He hadn't noticed until now that the hairband holding her hair back is on her wrist now, and the wind whips the loose strands about her face as they twirl and sway. He's wondering if she's always this spontaneous: he guesses not. She seems to be fairly set in the things she enjoys most: exercising and tea, and studying medicine and music, in no particular order. She's probably reveling in the opportunity to be laid-back and carefree for a while: he likes that, so he goes along with it.
They dance until they're both out of breath and can't dance anymore, and then she gently takes his hand and leads him to a bench, giggling breathlessly.
"That was fun!" he chuckles as they lean into each other, recovering from their dance. Those bright gray eyes look up at him, and she smiles again:
"It was, wasn't it? We should hang out again sometime."
She suggests meeting at the coffee shop near the cafeteria on Friday, and he agrees eagerly. After they agree on a time, they go back to their dorms for the night. Time can't seem to pass quickly enough between then and Friday: he finds it hard to focus in his classes, thinking about her eyes, the dance in the park, the flowers and the pebbles. Somehow, though, he makes it through to Friday afternoon: he's there 15 minutes early, after dropping off the weekend's homework at the dorm room.
When he arrives, she's already there, reading a book.