hi guys.
so i don't even know if this counts as an epilogue because this about 19 years later. i was originally going to do something a little bit after laxus' and lucy's wedding but this kind of just happened as usual.
chase walter dreyar: (18) extreme sports + photography of said sports, science and tech geek, 6'2", dirty blond, brown eyes, senior in high school. usually cool, calm and collected, but honestly kind of a dork sometimes, clashes with lance pretty often, super protective of harper.
lance alexander dreyar: (17) soccer, extremely talented artist, average in everything else, 5'11" (and a half, he says, but nobody believes), blond with grey eyes, junior in high school. acts super salty and jaded about everything but is actually a prankster and gets excited really easily, even more protective of harper
harper grace dreyar: (14) track and field (mid-distance), humanities genius (wants to be a novelist), barely passes math and science, 5'6", blonde with stormy blue eyes, wears glasses (but contacts when she's running), insanely accident prone, kind of bubbly (but she has her days), always smiling, rather obstinate, looks up to both of her brothers.
"Chase. Come down here for a moment, please." His mother's voice carried up the stairway and rang too clearly for him to pretend to ignore in the open doorway of his bedroom. He grumbled in annoyance before pushing his stack of notebooks out of the way, slapping his laptop shut, and shoving his chair backwards.
"What?" he muttered as he poked his wild-haired head into the kitchen.
"Don't give me that attitude," his mother chided, giving her son son a knowing smile.
Chase grunted in response.
"Can you pick Harper up from practice for me?"
"But Mom-"
"Your father already has to pick Lance up from soccer, and I can't leave the stove on with only you at home because you barely know how to use a toaster."
"I hate it when people are logical,"he complained while he thumped up the stairs to grab his keys.
His mother's words stopped him at the top.
"Don't be such a grouch, Chase. You know as well as I do that you lucked out."
He groaned at the mention of the memory that he thought that he had locked safely in the dark corner of a maze somewhere in his brain that should have been impossible to find again.
"Can we not talk about that ever, ever, ever again please, Mom?"
"Since you said please."
He had just turned 17. Two days previously actually.
The sun had barely begun to set as he peeled his wetsuit half-way off and dried off his torso and salt-crusted hair. Grabbing his board and bag and slipping on his sandals, he jogged towards the sidewalk, past the familiar, rickety pier where he had had his first kiss, the old, abandoned lifeguard tower where a bird had pooped on his head and across the street to where his old, repainted Miata was parked. Glancing at the sky, he reached into his backpack for his camera, but changed his mind as his phone began to ring incessantly.
"Hello?"
"Chase? Where are you? Can you pick up Lance from practice?"
"Mom? I'm at the beach, I'd really rather not, and why?"
"Harp's meet ran a little late, and she spiked herself pretty badly so we're going to clean her up before getting her home. Your father and I only drove one car out here."
He sighed resignedly, and could practically see his mother's small relieved smile, despite the circumstances.
"They had a joint practice at Sabertooth High today," she continued, "And it ends in about fifteen minutes. No speeding, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay. See you at home."
"Thanks, love."
He shoved his skimboard into his tiny truck, thanking his lucky stars that he had opted for the smaller board.
"Damn, where is that idiot?" Chase's eyes swept the field rather urgently.
Ah. He breathed as he spotted the matted blond head.
"Lance!" The boy's head swiveled towards the sound and his perplexed gaze turned quickly to one of indifference.
"Oh, it's you."
"Surprise." Chase lifted is hands and waved them sardonically.
Lance opened his mouth to complain,
"Nope. You don't get to bitch to me cause it's not my fault. I'm just doing a favor for mom, so you can whine all you want when you get home." The younger brother hrmphed, and slid into the car.
"Put on a shirt, you stripper," he groaned as he saw his brother's suit rolled down.
"Jealous, young grasshopper? I can't help it if Uncle Gray's habits rub off on me sometimes."
"Don't you dare say it's because he's kinda cool or some shit like that cause thats the worst pun I've ever heard in my life."
"Wow, that's pretty cold, little brother," Chase snickered.
Lance moaned at his brother's sorry attempt and with a mischievous sideways glance, slowly began to remove his cleats.
The fumes of sweat, dirt and grass didn't hit Chase until it was too late.
"What the hell, Lance," he growled though gritted teeth.
At the next red light, Chase struggled to put the top down, but alas, it wouldn't budge.
"Come on, Lance, help out."
"Never," he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his feet onto the dashboard.
"Why fight it? Just feel the power of post-practice cleats in the air. Can't you feel the sensation, brother dear?"
"I can fucking see it."
"The stench was flipping atrocious, Mom. And Lance had the most pretentious look on his face in the world."
"And your poor father shall have to privilege off putting up with it."
special thanks to all of my faithful followers and reviewers. it has been quite a journey.
i'm currently brainstorming the hell out of a bunch of ideas, so hopefully there'll be a new one soon.
zephy out.