I snuck in quietly with delicate steps, easing the front door closed as quietly as I could. But nothing could stop the permanent squeak in the hinges.

The ugly yellow light of the sitting room light blinked on. Shadows were warped for a second as the person they depicted walked around the corner, finally solidifying the second I realized it was only Nicky.

"Hey," I whispered a little too loudly.

He smiled some, but didn't say a word as he placed one finger against his soft lips. I made a guilty face.

Just as I was about to open my mouth to mumble an apology, he placed a hand on my shoulder before exiting the house. I watched his silhouette fade in the 2 AM stillness just as the rain began to fall.

I smiled for a second, then treaded into the kitchen, hoping there would be at least an unfinished sandwich. My stomach was about to cave in.

Maneuvering delicately, I placed my bag down, but stopped mid-stride when I realized nearly a dozen people dozing quietly in an assortment of positions on the sofas, armchairs, and the floor. An array of marked papers, open textbooks, and drooling ball-point pens littered the area; I took a moment to capture the moment in my mind forever.

There was Cayla, in an easy chair from Ikea, hands behind her head. She had never been ashamed of how dark her armpits were. They stared out at me.

I never knew Maria slept with her eyes half-open. She was even mumbling.

Katie's mouth hung open, and a small river of spit could be traced from the side of her lips to a growing puddle on her biology homework, ink running in various directions.

Forgetting my empty stomach, I slowly made my way to a small, empty spot on the floor and curled up. I closed my eyes.

She had come home yesterday. The streetlights had flickered on the moment the station wagon pulled up into the driveway, followed quickly by a pair of small legs that jumped out from the backseat with beautiful ease and enthusiasm.

"Jaimy!" she cried, a slight soprano, as she fell into the awaiting arms of her best friend. "I'm home, I'm home," was all she could whisper as he laughed and cried and swung her around as best as he could. He was still only four foot five.

"Careful," warned her mother, who had turned to face the small reunion behind the talking parents. "We don't want to break her arm just after she's gotten back."

Of course not.

Followed by lemonade and ice cream. Citrus candles and saxophones on the radio. Good night's and don't stay up too late's.

Porches with the swing, budded blossoms poking up from the flower boxes, and two young friends braving their first midnight.

"It was scary," she said, staring past the railings and beyond the fireflies. "Everyone was sick."

Jaimy nodded and tried his best to understand, but to live with people sick all the time...

"You're brave," was all he said.

Smiling, she now turned to him. "Thanks for the roses you gave me. They were so beautiful."

Warm breeze. Blink.

"I didn't bring you those," Jaimy said, confused. "I think someone in your family did."

"Oh."

Warm breeze. Hand in his hand.

"Well, someday, when I grow up," he said, brushing stray hairs off her face, "I'll buy you a rose."

this actually started out as one direction fanfiction. then i paused for a second and rethought my life.
SOMETHING THAT I WROTE THAT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH ANYMORE, BY RENEE P.
She came back outside, scrunched against the drizzle, a brand new jumper cable wrapped underneath her coat. Suddenly, the sky cracked, and the clouds were illuminated for a furious second, sending her scampering through the puddles and into my car.

“That was fast,” I said as she fought to get her breath back.

“Yeah, well, this place is creepy,” she said with a shudder, sending droplets into various directions. “In and out. Here.”

She handed me the cable, and after taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the thunderstorm and stepped outside. While we had managed to steer the contraption under an awning, the frayed fabric above us was riddled with holes that dripped rainwater. I had only jumped a car twice before, but never during a thunderstorm. I was either going to pull out of here with a triumphant grin or be electrocuted to death.

She leaned out of the passenger window, frowning. “Well, ya gonna do it or not?”

“Yeah, give me a second!” After lifting up the hood, I attached one end to the beat up VW Rabbit and the other to the awaiting Camry stationed behind us. The owner of the auto parts shop had shouted down his son working in the attic to graciously assist us, but by now, he was snoring loudly in the driver’s seat, the remnants of his chain smoking wafting out of the open window. I gave her the thumbs up, and the engine roared beautifully to life with a turn of the key, jolting the sleeping man awake.

“Oh thank God,” I breathed, slamming the hood down after pulling the cables off.

“You guys good?” He looked crabby, but I gave an affirmative nod of the head, said thank you, and jumped into the car before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road.

“Phew,” she almost shouted when we began driving smoothly, then rolled down the window, stuck her head outside, and yelled a, “WHOOOO!” at the top of her lungs. She was hysterical now, the rain pelting her face, her eyes crushed together and her mouth open. We were laughing together, both open windows letting in the rainwater and allowing the coolness of the London September exhilarate us.

 “Ya wanna get food? Like greasy hamburgers?” she breathed when she pulled her head back in. “They’ll never know we fixed the car so fast.”

“Yeah, definitely. I want McDonald’s so badly is physically hurts me,” I said, groaning as I pulled up behind a queue of stubborn traffic. She punched the button for the radio and twisted the nob until the bass notes pounded painfully against my eardrums. I knew we were being the annoying American tourists, but I couldn’t help but start dancing when I noticed a mousy, white-haired couple in their car look sideways at us with sour expressions.

After ten minutes, the cell phone in my pocket buzzed to life, and I scrambled to answer it, tossing it sideways after fishing out of my pants and lowering the radio’s volume. “Answer it.”

“Who is it?”

“Rusty.”

“Crap! No, you answer it!”

“I’m driving!”

“Hell, we’re in bumper cars!”

“Do it!”

“Hello? Oh, hi Rusty. Yes. Yeah, well, we’ve been at the auto parts shop for a while now. Huh? Oh, well, actually, it’s more than that, they said there’s something wrong with the…transmission. Yeah, sorry. Okay, I will. What time will you guys be back at the villa? Oh, okay then. See ya.”

She pressed the red button with a small chuckle. “They ain’t going back till seven at night. Girl, we gonna pretend all day we were at the auto place.”

“Wait, what?”

“We gonna go round town, girl!” She started dancing to the radio edit of “Call Me Maybe,” which was only the first song in our karaoke session down the east side of London, the first half a mix of American and British pop that we ad-libbed half of, and the other half a drawn out serenade to the Avett Brothers with some pseudo-Greek chanting mixed in.

By the time we had circled the same neighborhood three times looking for a burger joint, we realized we had passed a rather discreet McDonald’s tucked in at the end of a quiet block. We parked outside and filed in, wharfing down some ice creams and French fries before going out to dance in the remains of the thunderstorm.

“It’s not rainin’ too—“

“Wait, do you hear that?”

She furrowed her brow, concentrating, then her eyebrows shot up when she heard the same faint mewing of someone crying.

“Poor guy,” she said quietly while turning the edges of her lips slightly down, then began to turn back to the car when I whispered a, “Wait,” and tiptoed into the alley.

 I heard a, “God, not again!” behind me, but I ignored it as I peered around a green, overflowing Dumpster. I saw the subtle shadows of a figure shaking slightly with sobs, and I felt a tug from a deep within my chest.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly into the air, and immediately the sounds stopped. I held my breath. Pursing my lips, I inched closer, finally catching a glimpse of his face in the weak daylight.

His light brown hair was tousled and pointing in several directions, while his face was streaky and red. When he caught my eye, he swallowed and stared at me, drilling me through the face with frighteningly pure blue eyes. I couldn’t will myself to exhale, caught in a staring match with someone who clearly would do anything to make me disappear.

“Um,” I breathed, pausing. “Um, I-I’m really-I’ll go—“

“Wait.”

My heart stopped.

idyll.
5/7/12

"Man, I am so full."

She yawned, wiping away the tears that had oozed out of her eyes from the fatigue. "Yeah, me too," she said sleepily, throwing herself onto the couch. "And tired."

"Do you think they'll mind if we napped here?" he said, undoing the buttons of his shirt around his wrists, his neck, and pulling on his tie to loosen it.

"Nah," she said, peering through heavy eyelids at the cooking program on the TV.

He climbed onto the couch beside her, laying his head on her lap.

Pretty soon, they were both asleep.

"So I've heard you're from Georgia."

I looked up. "Yeah, me and --"

"Yeah, I definitely knew Leanne was. Accent."

I laughed. "Yup, well, we don't talk like dem Yanks."

"Yanks are people from New York."

I laughed again, throwing my head back to mock his cluelessness. "Yeah, sure. Basically anyone from the North, really."

"Huh." He played with the dregs of his cappuccino, clinking the spoon against the sides of the porcelain mug while looking out the window. A certain draftiness emanated from the empty space of his vast apartment, and the rain only amplified it. His face was contemplative, masked.

I stared at the side of his face for a moment, noticing how subtle the shadows were on his nose, and the curvilinear of his jawline, and the mousiness of his brown hair. Neither of us had turned on the kitchen light, so we had nestled into the darkness comfortably and admired the London skyline via coffee and The Daily Telegraph.

"Do you miss Georgia?" he asked, turned back to me.

I blinked, trying to not seem suspicious, and finally murmured a, "Mhmm."

"What was it like?"

It took me a moment to answer. "Well, it was home. It was so, like, beautiful, you know? One of the best moments of my life would be when I would roll down the window of the car in April or May, feeling the wind of my face, smelling the honeysuckle in the night air. And you would look up and see a ginormous arch of stars..." A knot in my throat had settled in.

There were a few seconds of silence as he stared past my eyes, as if imagining it. "Sounds really good."

I smiled. "I didn't think I would get homesick," I said, picking up my mug and draining the last of its contents. "But, I do."

"When are you leaving?" he asked quietly, unfolding his arms and laying them against the table. His fingers were inches from my arms, the tension of closeness raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"Tomorrow."

i've been trying to cope with this by doing objective things like studying, but it's bothering me completely out of my mind. the fact that my best friend, plus one of my other really good friends, is suffering, and that they won't let me do anything about it...

man, i can barely stand it. please, Father in Heaven, have mercy. have mercy.