Hokay, this was written for the 50-Shuffle challenge THING that I saw on here and decided to do.
It's not exactly going fast, but I'm getting there. Slowly.
There are no specific characters, no specific pairings.
It could, if you squinted a lot, be from Reno's POV.
But to be honest, I think I was writing it more about myself.
Reveiws make me SQUEEE!!! with happiness. ^^.
Song Used: Crossfade - So Far Away.
Word Count: 753.
------------------------------------
I am flat on my back, the surface beneath me far too hard to be my bed. The cold seeping through my cotton shirt reminds me of days spent just sitting on sidewalks with my friends, our shoulders touching on the dirty red-brick wall.
We'd spend hours there no matter what the weather, passing roung bottles of cheap vodka and cheap cigarettes that were more filter than tobacco, joking and laughing and just being teenagers. It was fun.
The wall faced south, and no matter what season it was, the sun would be in our eyes. We didn't care. We'd squint, guessing through the dazzling light which towering blurred black shape was which, revelling in the white light that spilled over us. Somehow I never managed to tan, not even a little bit, and I remember the frustration of being the palest kid on the street.
In summer, when the temperatures would soar, we'd bake steadily like clay pots in a kiln, sweat forming a salty layer on our exposed limbs and stomachs. The feeling of each pore slowly oozing moisture, which would promptly begin to evaporate as soon as it hit the scorching air, was intoxicating.
The sun always seemed so close in those days.
As we grew up, and had less and less time to meet up at the wall, the distance between us and the white-hot ball of gas in the sky seemed to grow.
Sometimes, when I'd had a rough day (and then more and more until it became a daily thing), I'd go and sit by the wall, exactly the way we used to - a bottle of dirt-cheap vodka in one hand, a half-smoked cigarette between my lips. I perfected blowing smoke-rings then, learning through constant practice how to shape my lips and tongue so that the thick grey smoke would come out of my mouth in round rings.
But the rings never stayed, not even the most perfect ones. Within a couple of seconds, they'd have disintergrated completely.
It got to a point one afternoon when I felt just like one of those smoke rings.
It was raining hard, like miniscule bullets falling from the sky to explode in a burst of droplets on every surface that they touched. I had stayed sitting on the concrete floor even when the rain began, and I was soaked. My hair was plastered to my head, my white shirt now almost transparent as it clung to the shape of my breasts and stomach.
I don't know what happened after that, although I must have moved somewhere. I ache now; each limb feels too heavy to move, and there is an almost painfully warm heat radiating out from what feels like my core. The metallic taste in my mouth could be from alcohol, vomit or blood, although i suspect that it is probably the latter.
Using as much strength as I can muster, I lift my right arm, resting it on the part of my stomach where the heat is burning the fiercest. I gasp at the mess of cloth and flesh that I feel there, at the liquid that is far warmer than the pounding rain. Dropping my hand back onto the ground, I stare blankly upwards at the sky.
Through a tiny gap in the heavy grey clouds, there is a flash of almost electric blue. And then, through the same gap there is light, beautiful warm white that shines so brightly onto my face that I have to close my eyes a little. It is so beautiful! The sun is so close, I'm convinced that it's close enough to catch hold of it if I just reach my arm far enough...
While I reach, I wonder if maybe it goes full-circle, if maybe the sun only seems close when you are young, and then when you are about to die.
At this, I lose the desire to grab the brilliant light above me, and my hand falls heavily down onto my chest. I sigh deeply.
I almost wish that I could go back to spending every day smoking and drinking with my friends, our backs against the wall, even if I did end up spending every day after than alone. I wish the sun was so far away now.
A single tear rolls from the corner of my eye down to the ground, mixing with the rain already on my face. I open my eyes wide, drinking in the sunlight until all I can see is white.