Hey everyone! I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever (well, it feels that way to me).
This chapter actually took a WHILE for me to write -.- but here it is! :)
I just want to thank my lovely reviewers again, supersexyghotmew95, Marisa Lee, aworldwellneverfind, when the stars go out, Rachel, Pianosandhearts, and Peanutter! Honestly, this story- and I- would have gotten nowhere without you guys. so thanks!
Enjoy!
A cool female voice interrupted Schroeder's fitful sleep.
The nice stewardess continued her usual spiel over the fuzzy intercom: "We will be landing at JFK International Airport in approximately fifteen minutes. It is a cool sixty degrees in New York City, partly sunny with a chance of rain…"
He groaned quietly, shifting in the cramped seat. He longed desperately to stretch, to stand up in the cabin aisle and feel his joints crack. Schroeder blinked his eyes, sleepily looking around the cabin as it slowly rustled to life.
The trip so far had been mostly peaceful, he mused. True to form, Lucy had almost gotten into a shouting match with the blond, gum-chewing flight attendant. "Look, lady," the attendant had droned in a bored voice, "Keeping your phone on is against regulations—"
"No, YOU look here!" Lucy had roared, drawing strange looks from some of the other passengers. "I don't take orders from some yellow-haired bimbo—" Yup, the hormones were definitely kicking in.
Or maybe it was because he saw she had noticed how the attendant had checked him out appreciatively when he first sat down?
Nah.
Definitely the hormones.
Speaking of which, he turned to look at the girl in the window seat next to him. She was peacefully asleep, her chest moving up and down as she breathed slowly. In awe, he admired her features—is that really all he did these days? —a bit ruefully, hesitant to disturb her. She looked like an angel, the soft golden sunlight streaming in through the tiny window touching her like a halo. It would be a sin to waken her.
Unfortunately, Schroeder could see the ground coming closer, so he decided to buck up and take the bull by the horns, so to speak.
He shook her arm. "Lucy, we're almost the—"
The boy was painfully interrupted by a fist smashing into his face.
As he howled in anguish, he heard Lucy's voice through the burning haze. "Oh, Schroeder, I'm sorry!" she cried, wringing her hands. "It was a reflex, I swear!"
He summoned the strength to glare at her resentfully. "Bullshit," he moaned. "You've killed me. You've broken my jaw. Lucy, you'll have to hand feed me for the rest of my life—no, I'll have to eat through a straw—"
"Oh, hush. I can see you can talk just fine." She smirked at him, eyes twinkling. Gently, she brushed her fingertips along the side of his jaw, leaving behind a burning feeling deep in his skin. His eyes widened in shock as she leaned forward slowly, almost hesitantly, and she kissed his cheek. Right on the bruise.
Of course it didn't hurt, she did it so softly—but when she pulled away, Schroeder could feel a different pain, the ache he had become accustomed to. No, scratch that; it was familiar, but he never got used to it. This pain was always fresh.
The longing to take her into his arms, to kiss the living daylights out of her, to be utterly happy and utterly hers—blossomed in his chest as he stared at her in quiet agony. Of course she didn't notice. Lucy had turned to look out the window, her mood already quickly shifting to that of excitement.
"Schroeder," she chirped, bubbly, "I am so excited! How long until we get to your apartment? Will we take a taxi? Is the airport big? Will we get lost? Like, really lost?" She seemed oddly fascinated with the idea.
He replied in mock annoyance, "How the heck should I know? I just want to sleep. Why are you so happy, anyway? You just punched me in the—"
She squealed. "We're landing!"
He groaned. These freaking mood swings were going to kill him.
The two teens stood in the crowd that bustled around them, humans on an alien planet.
Lucy stared around her in awe. She had gone on small trips before, but they were almost always on the road. Never in an airport like this. And all these people! So many looks, intentions, personalities—all colliding and meeting in one place. Honestly, how could she ever go back to a boring small town after experiencing this?
Schroeder, on the other hand, was concentrating on the airport map on the distant wall. He contemplated the different color-coded hallways and symbols. "Where is the damn restroom?" he complained, hand tightening around his luggage. His bladder was literally about to explode!
"Schroeder, this place is so cool!" Lucy cried, catching onto the excitement around her. "When can we go see the city? I've always wanted to look at—"
"Let's concentrate on finding a way out of here," he interrupted wearily. She opened her mouth to object, but seemed to think better of it and shut it. She contented herself with staring interestedly at some Goths leaning against a pole further way. What her inner psychiatrist would give to speak to them!
Finally Schroeder located an exit on the brightly colored map. "Let's go, Lucy," he said, holding the luggage handle in one hand and taking her hand with the other. She didn't seem to notice, gazing about dazedly.
After weaving around crowds, poles and some rather rude people (he let Lucy unleash some of her more colorful language at them in response) they found themselves outside in the bustling streets of New York City. Unlike Lucy, Schroeder was not one to sightsee—especially with a stretched bladder—so he wasted no time in hailing a taxi. He pulled the girl behind him towards the vehicle, letting her in before loading their plentiful luggage wherever it could fit. He finally settled in next to Lucy in the cramped backseat.
"Um, 315 West 115th Street, please," Schroeder told the cab driver, glancing down at the address carefully copied on a slip of paper. As the cab took off, Schroeder's hand found Lucy. He intertwined their fingers, grinning at her teasingly as she whipped her head from the window. She smiled in response.
Lucy sat on the couch and frowned, kind of pissed off.
They had reached the apartment hours ago, a tiny thing only fifteen minutes away from Broadway. As she tried to help Schroeder with the bags –him shrugging off her attempts firmly—Lucy gazed at the building in wonder. Cream-colored brick broken only by a dark fire escape, it rose above the cement below, rather than the large lawn she was accustomed to back home. Despite the fact it was cramped-looking, squeezed together, and not exactly beautiful—she felt a warm tug in her chest.
It felt like home.
They lugged the bags up the steep stairs one by one, sweating and nearly dropping a couple of them. The apartment was on the fourth floor, and Lucy longed for an elevator. If this was an effort now, how the hell was she supposed to make the trek nine months pregnant? She shivered at the idea. Better not to dwell on that.
Finally, as the last piece of luggage was dropped on the apartment's carpet, Schroeder rushed to the single bathroom with a shriek. "I CALL THE BATHROOM!" came his shout as he slammed the door closed. Lucy decided this would be a nice time to explore.
Of course, there wasn't much to see, but she reveled in trying to memorize every last feature of her new home. The kitchen was so little, but there were already some outdated appliances in place, and the countertops were pretty new. Next she headed to the living room. It was well-lit, with many narrow windows around two of the walls. It was tiny, but snug, and she fell in love with it already.
"Nice, isn't it?" came a voice from behind her, and she turned to see Schroeder smiling at her. He bit his lip. "I mean, do you like it? I know its small, but—"
"It's perfect," she breathed, grinning back. He brightened.
"Of course, it'll look better when Franklin brings the furniture," Schroeder mused.
Lucy remembered the sad day seven years ago, when the dark-skinned boy had moved away from their close-knit neighborhood to New York with his family. Thankfully, he and Schroeder had actually kept in touch over the years, and now upon hearing his old friends' situation Franklin had volunteered to lend them everything they needed. "It was really nice of him to do that," Lucy agreed, "Of course, this place won't be complete without a piano."
Schroeder froze, and cleared his throat nervously. "Um, yeah, of course, Lu."
As she shot him an inquisitive look, and her mouth opened with a question, the doorbell rang, and he thanked his lucky stars he wouldn't have to explain that just yet. "That must be him now!" He exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, walking towards the door to let him in.
"Franklin!" Lucy cried, rushing over to give him a hug as the tall boy stepped inside. After stumbling slightly at impact, he returned the embrace warmly.
"Wow, Luce, it's been forever! How have you been, sweetheart?"
"Just great," she beamed, "and look at you! You've grown!"
Franklin rolled his eyes, grinning. "People tend to do that, I've heard. And how is Lucy Junior?" he teased, earning a smack in the arm.
"Good to see you, Franklin," Schroeder smirked, clapping his old friend in the back. "Thanks so much for helping us out."
"No problem! I've got the stuff downstairs now."
Yes, the reunion had been happy enough, Lucy pouted, but the problem had happened a few minutes later. The three had been in the middle of lugging the couch she was presently sitting on—and she had to admit, it had been kind of heavy—up the stairs, when Lucy had let out a groan on exertion. Franklin had turned to her, his forehead creased.
"Lucy, should you be doing this? You know, the—the way… in your… condition…?" He fumbled for words awkwardly, still straining under the couch's weight. His previous joking mood was gone.
She had been about to brush off his suggestion with a wave of her hand. "It's nothing," she was about to bite out, when she happened to catch a glance at Schroeder's face. It had paled in shock, as he fully realized that pregnant ladies shouldn't be carrying giant pieces of furniture. He looked horrified.
So this was how she ended up alone in the living room, sulking as the boys finished the hard work. She crossed her arms in indignation. Who did Schroeder think he was, anyway? She was the mighty Lucy, champion arm wrestler of her hometown, stronger than most boys she knew! She could carry a stupid couch!
Speak of the devil. She could hear thumps coming up the stairs, getting louder.
As they heaved a bedframe through the front door, Lucy turned to glare at them coldly. Gulping, Franklin muttered something unintelligible, dropped his side of the frame and scooted back downstairs as fast as his legs could carry him. Schroeder, however, stayed, looking guilty.
Her eyes narrowed. He shuffled his feet.
But slowly, she slumped, her freezing gaze softening. She sighed, crossing her arms dejectedly. Schroeder's expression instantly turned to worry, as he gently made his way next to her. He sat uncomfortably.
Lucy sighed again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess, I just feel so—so… frustrated, you know? Like I'm losing so much… and now I can't even help you guys move in."
She glanced up at him, prepared to see sympathy or pity in her best friend's eyes. But hers widened in shock. Instead, he was smiling at her, that familiar, comforting one that she would catch so frequently. The one that reminded her of long summer afternoons lying on the grass, of candy at Christmastime. Of timeless hours listening to piano music.
The smile that reminded her that she hadn't lost everything.
Her eyes were suddenly fierce. "But I'm not going to let that stop me," she murmured, gaining strength. "I've still got Linus, and Rerun, and Violet… I'm going to college, and living here—with you." She paused, he smile stretching. "I mean, we do make a great team, huh?"
Schroeder's grin spread wider. "Of course," he reassured her. "I told you I'd always be with you, Lu."
"Always? Even when I start getting annoying enough for two?" She was teasing now.
"Weeellll… maybe…"
She punched his arm. He laughed.
"That's my girl."
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