Synopsis: Texts are the guardians to the soul. They are also love letters. And weapons with which to slay dragons with.
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Humour
Ending: Pre-Game
Rating: T
A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one. I reworked it over and over again and never really settled on something I loved. Well, at least it's cute.
The Library
The Day We Texted Each Other
Chris slumps further down his bed, aimlessly flicking through apps on his phone in the half dark. The glow sticks to his cheeks and flicks off his glasses, tinting his gaze. He puffs out a sigh. He knows its been a long day when he ends up resorting to knocking over a hoard of green pigs in angry birds.
It turns out that Josh – despite Sam's insistent look – had not been in immediate danger. Nor was he being abducted by aliens, despite what his sisters might have wished. Or Chris. Nope. He'd just ended up in the principle's office – again.
Chris had run into him when Josh had been stuffing his face with a three tiered hamburger in the school cafeteria. He was equipped with a victorious grin on his face and a busted hand.
"Okay, what happened?" Chris had slapped down into the seat across from his best friend, eyes unimpressed and exhausted. "I thought you'd threatened to attack the kitchen lady again."
"Hey," Josh chewed in between a huge bite of burger and onions. He had pointed a greasy finger towards Chris – which Sam, who was unabashedly lurking behind them, had visibly cringed at. "For the record, I was five. And she burned my fries."
Chris snorted, half smirking. He knew he should be annoyed. Or at least partly worried about his friend's well being. Given that this so called 'event of desperation' according to Sam had torn him from a very important redhead.
"Hey," Josh grinded his jaw mid chew, before swallowing. His eyes had lit up like two huge light bulbs. "It's Sam," he perked up, catching a glimpse of the blonde behind Chris – who, last time Chris had checked, had looked pretty unimpressed. And was there a flash of worry? Maybe that was on behalf of Hannah.
"Don't change the subject," Chris rolled his eyes, sighing exhaustedly. Sam had told him that Josh had ended up in the principle's office – something to do with punching another guy in the face. Which, to be honest, Chris hadn't been immediately that shocked at. Josh was, admittedly, a terrible, indisputable, bad influence. And, therefore, Chris was vicariously living through him. "You could have been expelled."
"But," Josh had said so easily, so matter-factly with a simple shrug, "I wasn't." Then he'd smirked at a passing girl who seemed to half scoff and half check him out. Sam snorted. Chris had groaned.
Then Josh had taken another big bite from his hamburger, flitting easy eyes towards Sam, nose twitching; "Why is he being like this?" He pouted, relentlessly chewing.
And then Chris had immediately sensed the grin creeping up Sam's face – and the reddening flush slipping up his own neck. Sam coughed, smiling wildly. Chris wanted to hide.
"He was with a girl."
With a groan, Chris lets the screen of his cellphone fall on top of his face, embarrassment tugging at his red ears again. Mid-hamburger, Josh had looked at him like he was an alien who had just discovered another species. And right then Chris had decided to hide himself off on an island somewhere, breed dinosaurs and call it Jurassic Park. Just so he could get away from his mocking best friend – and apparently a mocking Sam too.
Chris will now never be able to casually mention heading to the library again. Knowing Josh, he'd probably turn it into some rude euphemism.
With a huff, Chris squeezes his eyes shut.
And then his phone immediately vibrates on top of his face.
"Ah!" He jumps, the phone tumbling to the floor with a thump. A yelping swear word escapes his mouth before he rolls over, scrambling for the phone, and cradling it to his chest as if it's his own biological son.
And then he sees the text that has flashed up on the screen.
ASHLEY: How's that essay going?
Immediately, a subconscious grin creeps up his face. Okay, maybe he'll put off that Jurassic Park building. Just, you know, for a bit.
Quickly, Chris thumbs out an instant message, sending it off with a buzz.
CHRIS: It's going
And then, jumping off his bed and heading towards his barely used desk, he attaches a screenshot of the Word file that has been sitting open on his laptop for the last two hours. A whole page worth of nothingness.
A smile twitches on Chris' lips as he watches her type.
Then;
ASHLEY: How very productive of you.
CHRIS: Ikr
Ashley giggles, pouring over her cellphone screen. She is supposed to be studying. She had started, huddling herself inside an igloo of study books. And yet, when she'd sat down and flipped open her science workbook, her mind had instinctively wandered. Like a tangent or a breaking stream. And she'd started thinking about stories and Shakespeare and particular events within the past day. And weeks. And month.
It turns out a certain chemistry-loving, glasses-wearing guy is more interesting than chemistry itself. At least the school subject kind.
ASHLEY: What are you doing besides writing that glorious essay of yours?
Ashley had always made a point while texting that she would always use the correct spelling and grammar. Sure, it takes a few more seconds to write but if she's going to be a published author someday, she has to at least keep her image right across all platforms. Professionalism.
CHRIS: u know, slaying pigs, saving the world
A whimsical, flick of a smile tugs on Ashley's lips, feeling her cheeks flush. Angry birds again. Not that Chris had mentioned it much in her company – it's not exactly a typically romantic subject. But while she had been hiding within the library, she'd caught him sneaking his phone out of his pocket and playing a few levels – while he was supposed to be studying, she might add.
And, okay, maybe he hadn't known she was watching. And maybe he didn't know she'd focused in on the way his tongue slipped out when he was concentrating too hard.
And maybe, just maybe, she definitely wasn't stalking him.
Unless Twitter stalking counts. Because she's definitely been twitter stalker him.
ASHLEY: Impressive.
CHRIS: do u always do that
The text pings through.
Her stomach drops, flipping with a familiar jolt of anxiety. She stares at the text on the screen. What does that even been? What did she do wrong? Did she do something wrong?
Frustrated at her over-active, worrying mind, she quickly gives herself a therapy session of "stop worrying so much, Ashley," and instantly taps out; What?
CHRIS: Put periods at the end of all ur txts?
Oh.
Is that all?
Something faint flickers on her lips.
She lets out a long, relieved breath. A chuckle escapes her lips – laughing at and mocking her again. Knocking on her anxiety again. And yet her stomach isn't sure whether to burst into a swarm of bees or whether to relax into a cloud of pillows.
She bites her lower lip, her thumb hovering over the letters on her cellphone screen. They stare back at her, daring her to respond, blinking their little dots above their 'i's.
She plunges, typing out a simple "No."
The period pops up. Taunting and black and blinking. She laughs. A real, hearty laugh.
Chris is right. She does always do that.
With warmth-filled eyes and something fluttering in her heart, she deletes what she has typed and rewrites;
ASHLEY: . No
A cheeky smile tugs on her lips. Something that her face is not used to. Chris seems to be doing that a lot to her lately.
ASHLEY: I put it at the beginning that time.
CHRIS: I saw that
CHRIS: .
The text pings through like a chorus from heaven.
Ashley glows, staring at the singular dot on her screen. She chuckles at it, at the bizarre presence of it. At how amusing it is in this situation. It's like he's sent her a gift through this phone screen. Like he's compromising.
She likes that.
She likes him.
Immediately, she shakes her head. Flecks of hair bat against her cheeks. Don't be stupid, Ashley. You barely even know him.
Even then, her fingers are automatically typing out the question that she'd wanted to ask all along.
She likes this feeling. This unsure, flirtatious back and forth. The playfulness of it. The dangerousness of it.
Even if this is her mere attempt at flirting.
Her eyes flutter down to the words she has written on the screen. She breathes.
She presses send.
ASHLEY: Are you coming by the library tomorrow?
Is he coming by the library today?
Chris has never thought about such a question so philosophically before.
"Hey," Josh nudges him as they squeeze through the school corridors. "Chris. Four eyes."
Chris' eyes stare aimlessly at his cellphone screen, ears drowning out Josh's incessant chattering, eyes dancing over his last texts with Ashley.
CHRIS: wat is this library that u speak of? The only library I ever visit is that of my documents library on my PC
It had been a lame joke to avoid a lame answer.
But what was he honestly supposed to say? "I can't come to the library anymore because I'm a coward and now my best friend knows I only go there to see you and therefore he will now make my life a living misery."
Right. Nothing says romance quite like that.
It's not hard for Chris to remember the day he'd heroically asked Ashley for her cellphone number. And, because it is his story to tell, he is at liberty to throw in as many fire breathing dragons and sword wielding heroes as he likes.
It definitely wasn't meagre. It definitely wasn't unimpressive.
It definitely didn't consist of Chris twitching at a library table, pretending to study while he tried to churn up the appropriate words.
Which had eventually ended up as; "Ashley, you have a phone, right?"
From where she had been stacking books on shelves, she'd glanced back at him suspiciously.
"Yes?" She'd dragged out the word and that had only made him even more nervous. He'd swallowed.
"Um," he'd fought within himself to throw out the words. To fire them out as quickly as possible. "Can I have it?"
She had immediately, violently snorted – which had shocked both her, Chris and the entire library – and then had decisively narrowed her eyes at him.
Which had resulted in Chris immediately recounting what he had just spat out his mouth, sworn at himself and then corrected; "I mean, can I have your number?"
And that's when she'd smiled. And lit up his whole world.
Or, you know, a part of it.
Much better than fire breathing dragons.
Chris' eyes glow as he glances at Ashley's last text.
ASHLEY: Lies.
It had been a quiet, simple response to his joke but it had still made Chris smile. At that moment, he'd wanted to throw every fear out the window and move all of his belongings into the library. To hell with Josh and Sam and every other sensible human being.
He could be adventurous if he wanted.
Though, for him, adventurous is drinking milk a day over the expiry date.
Hardcore.
"Yo," Josh snaps in Chris' ear and Chris jerks his head up, yanking himself back to reality.
"What?" Chris cringes, blinking back at his best friend and swiftly shoving his cellphone into his jean pocket.
Josh snorts, following the movement suspiciously. Still, he says nothing – for all the time they'd known each other, at least Josh had learned something – and instead flexes his now bruised hand like its a battlefield wound. "Anyone would think you'd gone into anaphylactic shock."
Chris narrows his eyes behind his glasses; "Do you even know what that word means?"
With a mocking gasp, Josh traipses down the corridor, Chris following close behind. Because that's what being a friend of Josh means. You always orbit around him. Or he'll cling to you like fungus.
"Despite what my grades say, Christopher," Josh waves an aimless arm through the air like it's a cane. "I'm actually pretty smart. It's science."
"Right, Josh," Chris chortles, bobbing his head along with his best friend. Beth has constantly compared the two of them to a pair of ravens, perched on top of a telephone wire, watching the world go by. Josh had spat at her and Chris had cringed. Wildlife, ew. But maybe she's right. Despite how far apart Josh and he might be in personality, they are both watchers. They both sit on the sidelines and observe. And maybe that's why Chris cares so much about this lunatic of a character he calls a best friend.
He drawls, "That's exactly what science is."
Josh grins one of his goofy, ridiculous grins that makes Chris wants to shove him against a wall. He does this; toying with the air, dragging out his reputation. Testing to see what kind of reaction he can get out of people. It's been a trait that Chris has admired and despised and seen develop inside his best friend from the day they'd first met. If Josh doesn't become the psychiatrist he wants to be, he could easily become a master manipulator.
Nobody could blame him for wanting to join the Mafia.
"You got it," Josh clicks his tongue, dragging his eyes from Chris to a group of passing girls who seem to be eyeing the pair up. No wait. They smile slowly, giggling. They're looking at Josh. Definitely looking at Josh.
He winks.
Chris rolls his eyes.
He feels like Josh's entourage.
"That never gets old," he sighs at the world as if he's blissfully thanking it for his borderline, speckle of popularity.
"No," Chris shoves past him with a grin, barely grazing the doorway to the library. He catches a glimpse of the sign, daring himself to go him. To break tradition. To be adventurous. And then, like the coward he is, he strolls past. "But you do."