They were young.
Just two kids, happily skipping across the street to see each other every day.
Sometimes they would swim in her pool.
Or play on the swings in his backyard.
At only six, they had no worries.
Only smiles on their faces that never seemed to go away.
/\
They were young.
Second grade was fun.
For him.
She was laughed out of the classes.
Called 'weird' and 'lame' for her love of dark colors, and lack of a cheery disposition.
But he liked her.
At only eight, they didn't know what love was.
But they knew friendship.
And that, they had.
/\
They were young.
Middle school was torture.
For her.
He felt confined.
Both wanted to get out.
But didn't dare say a word, in fear of what their parents would say.
It was them, against the world.
At only thirteen, she didn't understand what the butterflies meant.
The ones she only got when he'd hold her hand.
/\
They were young.
Possibly too young.
But at fourteen, he knew he'd fallen in love.
And she just wouldn't admit it yet.
/\
They were young.
Told they couldn't be together.
Her mom found her pressed between him and the wall, lips attached, in her room one day.
A modern day Romeo and Juliet.
At only fifteen, he moved out.
/\
They were young.
Love is hard to come by in today's world.
Oh, but they had it.
Heated, passionate and exciting.
Neither could get enough.
At only sixteen, they were one hundred percent in love.
Ten feet tall and bulletproof, no one could stop them.
/\
They were young.
Too young, as everyone thought.
But still, on a foggy night in September, he parked by the side of the road.
They couldn't even wait to get home.
There, in the cramped backseat of a beat up old Chevy, they gave one another everything they had.
Two first times.
At only seventeen, she moaned at the delightful pain.
Knowing she'd never regret a single second of it.
/\
They were young.
As was their relationship.
Sure, you say, they've known each other their whole lives.
But this passion, this intensity, was still far too new to them.
In fear of what may come of it, he ends it.
One late night at Tori's.
At only seventeen, he plays a game of poker, feeling truly empty for the first time.
At only seventeen, she sits in the same bed she made love to him in the night before, and cries until she runs out of tears.
It's a cruel way to spend a night.
/\
They were young.
Too young to raise a baby.
But they had to.
She hasn't spoken to him in over a month, but when the pregnancy test comes back positive, she knows she can't do this alone.
So she tells him.
"Hey... I'm carrying your kid. Help me raise it?"
It's cold and almost not personal, but she doesn't know any other way to say it right then.
His face is expressionless for a moment, but is then overcome by tears.
She runs the short distance to him, and he envelopes her in his arms.
It's comforting, and she cries into his chest, because it's the only place she's ever felt safe.
With the tears still coming full force, he whispers in her ear, three simple words.
"I love you."
/\
They were young.
She woke him up early one morning, before the sun was even up, and mutter those anticpated words.
"It's time."
He shoots up from his spot on the pillow, suddenly wide awake.
"Honey. My water just broke. It's time to go."
She's eerily calm, for someone about to deliver a baby.
She's been bedridden for the past six weeks, a dangerous pregnancy to blame.
He helps her out of bed, and she screams because, God, it hurts so bad.
He gently sets her back on the bed, and calls the doctor.
Two hours later, they're sitting in a hospital room.
She pushes one last time, and the whole room breathes a sigh.
Half relief, half exhaustion.
At only eighteen, she holds their baby girl close to her heart, as he wraps his arm around her and kisses her head.
"You did good, baby."
/\
They were young.
So was Addison.
Only four months old when God took her from their arms.
Pneumonia.
Fatal for someone as young as the small girl.
At only nineteen, they bury their daughter.
Something no one should ever have to go through.
/\
He was young.
She got a call, at three in the morning.
He wasn't home yet, five hours late.
No one knew where he had gone.
They found him.
Or rather, his body.
A car wreck.
He died slowly, and painfully.
They told her it must have taken at least an hour for him to bleed out on the deserted road.
In the seat, next to his limp corpse, she found a small sheet of paper.
"I love you, Jade" written in a sloppy scrawl.
Sitting beside it was a small box.
Upon opening it, she saw a tiny diamond, on a silver band.
Somehow, the tears come harder when she sees this.
/\
She was young.
But she had seen alot in her life.
Too much.
She stood at a cliff, overlooking the beach.
One small trip, and she would plumpet into the rocks beneath her.
She takes a big breath, and reads the small sheet of paper once more.
"I love you, Jade"
She looks at the ring on her finger, and clenches her fist, holding it tight.
Slipping the note into the pocket of her denim shorts, she whispers her last words.
"Wait for me."
Taking a step that she knows will never touch solid ground, she falls.
From then on, she's free.
a/n: Did I do good? This is the first I've written in a while... It has no names in it, because this is converted over from a dream I had. And, while it wasn't about Beck and Jade, I thought it might made an okay Bade fic.
Background music: May, James Durbin.
Review. I demand.
xx,
Cat