We met in a secluded field, the sun nearly kissing the evening horizon.
The warm breeze was full of that earthly, musky scent that only those fortunate enough to live outside the urban rat race know, and quiet whispering of the leaves in the Weeping Willow overhead added the final touch to the most romantic scene.
Technically, this wasn't the first time we'd met. We'd met many times before, but this was the first time he saw me. Properly saw me. Not as his best friends little sister, or that annoying tag-along, but as a girl...a woman.
I was there because this was where I came to think. To be at ease with myself, be who I really was. I didn't have to put on the same façade that I did everyday. I don't know why he was there. To think, he later told me, and later still that he came because he used to see me come out here. Being me, I believed him.
He was in his Quiddich robes that day, I distinctly remember. His hands were muddy and scratched, his scarlet and gold robes were torn and he had a cut on his cheek, below his right eye and his hair was mussed up as usual. All in all, he looked worse for the wear. He sat down beside me, wordlessly. I could smell his aftershave, the grass from the Quiddich field, and a definite scent of oranges. His smell. I automatically leaned into him, feeling slightly drugged, as if his very aura was an aphrodisiac. He kissed me then, holding my head in his hands, gently, as if afraid I was fragile and would break with too much pressure. It was like something I had never felt before. Of course, I had been kissed before, but never with such passion and intensity, gentle as the kiss may have been. He kissed me so many times, each time we met, each kiss burning with more passion, each of us wanting more. And we did. Much, much more.
He asked me not to tell anyone about this, about us, even though he had told me countless times how much he loved me. Why, I don't know. I don't think I ever will. I think partly it had something to do with my brother. Over the weeks, and months, which slowly merged into years, we grew apart. I saw him grow into a worshiped man. I saw him drift away from me. And worst of all, I saw him drift into her. She, with her bushy hair, big teeth and brains. She, with her beauty and wits and charm. She, who each and every day held my world in her arms, kissing and caressing it, not caring who saw. I was so jealous then. I had never really envied her smartness. Never envied her when she got made a prefect never envied her when she got to know things that I didn't. But at that time, I envied her so much I almost hated her. There she was, showing of to the world that she had bagged the Boy-I-Loved.
Slowly, time went on. We graduated, I grew up. They're getting married now. As I sit in the church, the cold pew sends chills down my back. Its hard for me to think about them together. Doing things that we once did together. I can't help but think how terrible her name sounds with his last name. And I can't help thinking that I should have been the one walking down the aisle, in that white dress. I should have been the one with the adorable flower girl. All the doting eyes of friends and families should have been on me. He should have been reciting his vows to me, and I should have been the one he leaned in to kiss, when instructed.
I sat outside, later, as the after wedding party was in full throng. I sat smoking a cigarette which I knew was bad for me, but couldn't give a damn about. He came out then, and sat down next to me, wordlessly. Words weren't needed between us anymore. He quietly told me that smoking was bad for me. I dropped it onto the gravel and pressed my foot down onto it. Not because he had said that, but because it was burning my fingers.
He said he was sorry. And then he kissed me, for the very last time. When he was with me when we were younger, he used to make me feel as if the whole world revolved around me. That's the feeling I had right then, even if it was only for that brief second that his lips met mine. Now he's gone, and I'm no one anymore. I'm just his best friends younger sister. Just that red-headed girl sitting on the fence near the duck pond looking forlorn. His life begins now, just as mine ends.
They say a photo is worth a thousand words. I say a kiss is worth ten thousand.
Fin.
The warm breeze was full of that earthly, musky scent that only those fortunate enough to live outside the urban rat race know, and quiet whispering of the leaves in the Weeping Willow overhead added the final touch to the most romantic scene.
Technically, this wasn't the first time we'd met. We'd met many times before, but this was the first time he saw me. Properly saw me. Not as his best friends little sister, or that annoying tag-along, but as a girl...a woman.
I was there because this was where I came to think. To be at ease with myself, be who I really was. I didn't have to put on the same façade that I did everyday. I don't know why he was there. To think, he later told me, and later still that he came because he used to see me come out here. Being me, I believed him.
He was in his Quiddich robes that day, I distinctly remember. His hands were muddy and scratched, his scarlet and gold robes were torn and he had a cut on his cheek, below his right eye and his hair was mussed up as usual. All in all, he looked worse for the wear. He sat down beside me, wordlessly. I could smell his aftershave, the grass from the Quiddich field, and a definite scent of oranges. His smell. I automatically leaned into him, feeling slightly drugged, as if his very aura was an aphrodisiac. He kissed me then, holding my head in his hands, gently, as if afraid I was fragile and would break with too much pressure. It was like something I had never felt before. Of course, I had been kissed before, but never with such passion and intensity, gentle as the kiss may have been. He kissed me so many times, each time we met, each kiss burning with more passion, each of us wanting more. And we did. Much, much more.
He asked me not to tell anyone about this, about us, even though he had told me countless times how much he loved me. Why, I don't know. I don't think I ever will. I think partly it had something to do with my brother. Over the weeks, and months, which slowly merged into years, we grew apart. I saw him grow into a worshiped man. I saw him drift away from me. And worst of all, I saw him drift into her. She, with her bushy hair, big teeth and brains. She, with her beauty and wits and charm. She, who each and every day held my world in her arms, kissing and caressing it, not caring who saw. I was so jealous then. I had never really envied her smartness. Never envied her when she got made a prefect never envied her when she got to know things that I didn't. But at that time, I envied her so much I almost hated her. There she was, showing of to the world that she had bagged the Boy-I-Loved.
Slowly, time went on. We graduated, I grew up. They're getting married now. As I sit in the church, the cold pew sends chills down my back. Its hard for me to think about them together. Doing things that we once did together. I can't help but think how terrible her name sounds with his last name. And I can't help thinking that I should have been the one walking down the aisle, in that white dress. I should have been the one with the adorable flower girl. All the doting eyes of friends and families should have been on me. He should have been reciting his vows to me, and I should have been the one he leaned in to kiss, when instructed.
I sat outside, later, as the after wedding party was in full throng. I sat smoking a cigarette which I knew was bad for me, but couldn't give a damn about. He came out then, and sat down next to me, wordlessly. Words weren't needed between us anymore. He quietly told me that smoking was bad for me. I dropped it onto the gravel and pressed my foot down onto it. Not because he had said that, but because it was burning my fingers.
He said he was sorry. And then he kissed me, for the very last time. When he was with me when we were younger, he used to make me feel as if the whole world revolved around me. That's the feeling I had right then, even if it was only for that brief second that his lips met mine. Now he's gone, and I'm no one anymore. I'm just his best friends younger sister. Just that red-headed girl sitting on the fence near the duck pond looking forlorn. His life begins now, just as mine ends.
They say a photo is worth a thousand words. I say a kiss is worth ten thousand.
Fin.