Summer Melody
It was summer. A bright, scorching summer which offered no hope of any relief.
She sat in front of the swing set, contemplating about her life and such. As any normal university students would do.'
Her life. Her hope. Her dreams.
Are they all still hers?
She remembered the days when she ran free, in her old high school. Barefoot, gently humming her favourite songs as she gently strummed her guitar.
Blue.
Her songs were like colours. In a world of whiteness, only her songs painted his world colourful.
Yet how much did she knew?
Only her melody will tell the story.
Hello, stranger
He always watched her from the corner.
They were friends since infancy, their parents suddenly decided to give birth to them at the same hospital, and then bought their houses right next to each other. His mother have always claimed it to be fate, but he believed it to be something different. A mere coincidence. Something that should never have happened in the first place.
As far as he remembered, she had always been brilliant. Smart, pretty, she had the world fawning at her feet.
But what was he?
A simple stranger? A mere childhood friend?
He shuddered at the thought.
Freedom was a concept that was so far, yet so close.
When it Rains
When summer comes she likes to stand in the rain, and feel the droplets of rain fall upon her, as suddenly and unexpected as when he kisses her.
She misses him. A lot.
He was a rebel. Not that anything more needs to be said.
Sometimes she would find him outside her apartment. His hair ruffled by the wind and clothes drenched with water. Without words, she could tell that he had been arguing with his father again.
"Shin", she whispered quietly, "you should come in"
Without words, he would gild into her apartment like a ghost and take residence on her couch like a lot kitten.
Sometimes, she would ask him if he wants tea, and then gently persuade him to talk to her. Sometimes too, she would just order him to take a shower, and wear her old pyjamas and then sleep on the sofa, for the night being.
Silence. They found comfort in each other being silent, yet they were unusually communicative in their secret ways.
When he had finally relaxed, she would text his father, and tell him that he is safe.
Her melody changes, he notices, from happy to sad, from sad to happy. Such is the life they are playing at.
Summer was their favourite season. Quiet and reserved, yet there was colour at every corner of their life.
AN:
I originally intended this to be a oneshot thing, but it somehow exploded into the things that you've just read as above.