A/N: This is kind of crappy and I was just trying out my new style. Told from Ginny's point of view.
Sunset
A short story by Blood Red Summer
It was funny, the way many things start out, that is. I was young and I was rebellious, but not in that 'burning down a house with a lit cigarette' kind of way. My tarot cards were worn and bent because I told the future to many boys with grass stained jeans and tousled hair.
And they would believe it... even when I snuck myself into those readings.
And somehow we'd end up kissing at the corner of my bed.
But he wasn't the kind to fall for my decks of tricks. No, he had a small smile and would always refuse to know what lies ahead in the future because he preferred to know what would happen now. I never did like it.
I always gave in first.
So we'd would end up writing on each other's hands about what to get each other for Christmas, even though it was July. And when we ate their cranberry pies, we'd smile with spoons sticking out of our mouths because we're wondering when the other will realize what was in their slice. We'd laugh about it later because the silence was kind of awkward and the situation was kind of funny. At least, at the moment it was.
He'd always end it though because he says there's this other girl he has to meet. I'd ask him if she was pretty as me or as fun to be with, and he'd just give me a small smile and say that I'm too pretty for his taste.
And it made me feel better, kind of.
Then I saw her one day, in front of his house. Don't ask me how I knew it was her because it just was. Her blonde hair was neatly curled in and her glossy, pink lips were pursed as she listened to him. And sometimes he'd stare at her, and sometimes he didn't, but most of the time he had this twinkle in his eye that I never saw before.
He was never that way around me.
And then I felt silly with my tangled, red tresses and chapped lips. I remembered when he said her hair was like a sunset. I just rolled my eyes and told him he was a work of art, with his lines and all. Then I'd laugh, but it wasn't so funny when he didn't join in, and it wasn't funny at all when he had that serious expression on his face. He said I'll find mine one day... whatever that meant.
I had once asked him that maybe we were meant to be? He said I'll find a boy my age.
Then I would say that he's only six months older.
And not a day less, he'd say.
And never a day more, I reminded.
So I never pressed on the subject because what was there to be said? Maybe he'll come back to
his senses or maybe I'll come back to mine? I waited for him, anyway, and not for myself.
And yes, he did date that other girl. He was the happiest I ever seen whenever he was near her, and I did loose hope. Never did last, though.
After a while, he realized we were good for each other because then he saw me in a new light,
guess. He'd hold my hands when they were cold and kiss my cheeks when they were rosy. Most
of the time he would give me a small smile, kind of like how he always did when we were younger.
And I felt kind of silly again. At least he was mine...
I think.
But I still look at him like he's not really even there, like it's not okay for me to touch him at all. And sometimes I only look at him when he's not looking. Then I would see something in him that I haven't in such a long time.
He'd look at that sunset with his small smile and that twinkle in his eye.