Post by jramsey on Jan 1, 2016 20:04:34 GMT -6
The stars hung in the sky, though more than a few clouds were present, obscuring the moon partially. Most of the light outside of Hannah LaCroix’s apartment was provided by the complex’s street lights, and that’s how Patrick Carson found her. Hannah was looking up at the sky, red cup of whatever she was drinking in her hand, silent in thought; he paused, looking her up and down before saying a single word.
He sighed to himself, internally. This was it; two weeks ago he had dropped the bombshell on her that he was leaving. Accepted to the University of Maryland school of journalism, his apartment was packed, car ready to leave (as soon as he was over the hangover he anticipated having) to head across the country. There was just one, minor complication...the fact that he was crazy for the girl standing in front of him. The one who’s seemingly biggest fear was being left alone as all of her friends, him included, spread throughout the country.
Still, he’d offered...he couldn’t call it a compromise, it was far more blatant than that. He wanted her to come with him; to figure out what they are, to give her time as she waited on medical school applications. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe they were better off friends…
...Maybe they were ruining the friendship by doing this, but Patrick didn’t want to risk losing the opposite. And that’s why he stood there, playing out every possible ending to this conversation before ever beginning it. Before he could be the one to start it, however, she turned, catching him mid-thought.
“I…”
It was harder than she thought to even bring up; any distraction was a welcome one, including the little red cup that was rapidly emptying in her hands. The vodka burned away some of her anxiety, but it was replaced by an almost vacant stare off into the distance--in this particular case, staring at the moon, just waiting for the clock to tick over to midnight...waiting for 2016, whatever it might bring.
She huffed...shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs and turning back to look at Patrick--it was momentarily odd for Hannah to think of him by his actual name, rather than thinking of him as Fish, but this wasn’t the time for nicknames and the like. She wasn’t #hannah, sitting out on the curb, away from the party; she was just Hannah LaCroix, desperate for a distraction.
So desperate she’d resorted to a cigarette.
“I, umm...I think…”
And again, she huffed.
Her mouth hung open for a second, then she just pulled her phone out of her pocket. 11:56 pm...only a few more minutes, a few more precious minutes of 2015, before the future changes everything; only a few more minutes of the present, before everything that once seemed so far away--plans being made, people leaving, life moving on whether she wanted it to or not--would suddenly be right around the corner.
And rather than continue her thought...she found herself, instead, only biting into her lip. He, on the other hand, sat down beside her, putting his own red cup, still a quarter full of rum, down by his side. Avoiding her eyes, he looked over at the cigarette, then down at the ground.
“...You don’t have to say anything. Not yet, anyway. ...I just wanted to talk.”
But rather than talk right away, the pair let the silence hang there. This was a topic that neither truly wanted to broach, but they didn’t have a choice. This was now or never, seemingly, and no in between. After what felt like an eternity to both, but had to have been 20, maybe 30 seconds, Patrick started up again.
“I talked to Anna. She and Jennifer...they’ve been working on that chart. Neither remembers every single thing, but they’ve been piecing it together. Remembering who got with who, who did what, that sort of thing. ...I asked if either of them remembers us...hooking up.”
Another uncomfortable silence. He reached over, picking his cup back up, and taking a long, finishing drink out of it. Looking at the bottom, he let the slightest frown go before putting it back down, hoping no stray breeze would sweep through and carry it away; after all, it was his cup. Had his name on it and everything. He looked back over to find Hannah looking at him.
“Oh, right, you want to know what they said! ...Funny story...according to them? .....No.”
He looked back down at the ground.
“I...I don’t know what that says. But we didn’t. I’m…”
This time he trailed off. This was veering away from facts, back into feelings. And if there’s one thing Patrick Carson didn’t like to deal in, it was feelings, his or anyone else’s. He instantly wished he had more rum to drink, and contemplated getting up, going back inside, and refilling. But that wouldn’t end well; both of the two knew that if he left, this conversation wasn’t going to happen...and it needed to.
Sip…
Sip…
Sip…It was a good way to keep herself from speaking up until she needed to.
She gulped down the remainder of her drink, resisting the urge to throw her cup out into the parking lot just to get some amount of frustration out of her system. Instead, Hannah just sets her cup down between her feet, staring down at it for a moment. She was trying to listen, but the vodka, the stress, and the clock ticking in her own mind sorta drowned everything out.
Then...he stopped. He trailed off.
Then...her mind just...let go.
And she turned to really look at him, leaned over, and kissed him.
“Hey, Fish?
“Shush.”
Hannah flashed a grin and scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“I...I spent a lotta time thinking over Christmas, and...I mean…if everyone’s leaving, there’s not really...any reason for me to stay…”
It was a nerve-wracking thing to say, but she tried to keep her voice as confident as she could.
Meanwhile, the words hadn’t exactly registered in Patrick’s head. He was still reeling from how she stopped him from talking. He’d admit to himself, he had done...a lot of kissing over the past few days, and even though he hadn’t exactly returned this one due to its covert nature, it was still...different. Finally, the words that had left Hannah’s mouth seemingly forever ago slid into his mind.
“...So you’re saying…?”
He still didn’t want to be the one to say it, but his eyes finally met hers, and he smiled. He fished his own phone out of his pocket, looking down...almost in unison with the crowd back in Hannah’s apartment beginning the countdown from 10. Hannah flashed a smile up again, staying quiet at least for the moment.
9…
8…
7…
Each second met with a tap of her foot against the pavement.
6…
5…
4…
A grin spreads on the young woman’s face, as she again leans up to kiss him.
3…
2…
1…
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Their lips met in the middle this time, him returning the action. It was sweet, held for a few seconds, then released, their eyes opening to look at each other for the first time in 2016, with all the mystery it held going forward.
Hannah grins and leans her head against Patrick’s shoulder, echoing the sentiment.
“Happy new year.”
Patrick responded by wrapping his arm around her, pulling her as close as possible, and leaning his head down onto hers.
“Happy new year, Hannah.”
He sat there, their heads resting together, his eyes looking up to the sky.
He sighed to himself, internally. This was it; two weeks ago he had dropped the bombshell on her that he was leaving. Accepted to the University of Maryland school of journalism, his apartment was packed, car ready to leave (as soon as he was over the hangover he anticipated having) to head across the country. There was just one, minor complication...the fact that he was crazy for the girl standing in front of him. The one who’s seemingly biggest fear was being left alone as all of her friends, him included, spread throughout the country.
Still, he’d offered...he couldn’t call it a compromise, it was far more blatant than that. He wanted her to come with him; to figure out what they are, to give her time as she waited on medical school applications. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe they were better off friends…
...Maybe they were ruining the friendship by doing this, but Patrick didn’t want to risk losing the opposite. And that’s why he stood there, playing out every possible ending to this conversation before ever beginning it. Before he could be the one to start it, however, she turned, catching him mid-thought.
“I…”
It was harder than she thought to even bring up; any distraction was a welcome one, including the little red cup that was rapidly emptying in her hands. The vodka burned away some of her anxiety, but it was replaced by an almost vacant stare off into the distance--in this particular case, staring at the moon, just waiting for the clock to tick over to midnight...waiting for 2016, whatever it might bring.
She huffed...shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs and turning back to look at Patrick--it was momentarily odd for Hannah to think of him by his actual name, rather than thinking of him as Fish, but this wasn’t the time for nicknames and the like. She wasn’t #hannah, sitting out on the curb, away from the party; she was just Hannah LaCroix, desperate for a distraction.
So desperate she’d resorted to a cigarette.
“I, umm...I think…”
And again, she huffed.
Her mouth hung open for a second, then she just pulled her phone out of her pocket. 11:56 pm...only a few more minutes, a few more precious minutes of 2015, before the future changes everything; only a few more minutes of the present, before everything that once seemed so far away--plans being made, people leaving, life moving on whether she wanted it to or not--would suddenly be right around the corner.
And rather than continue her thought...she found herself, instead, only biting into her lip. He, on the other hand, sat down beside her, putting his own red cup, still a quarter full of rum, down by his side. Avoiding her eyes, he looked over at the cigarette, then down at the ground.
“...You don’t have to say anything. Not yet, anyway. ...I just wanted to talk.”
But rather than talk right away, the pair let the silence hang there. This was a topic that neither truly wanted to broach, but they didn’t have a choice. This was now or never, seemingly, and no in between. After what felt like an eternity to both, but had to have been 20, maybe 30 seconds, Patrick started up again.
“I talked to Anna. She and Jennifer...they’ve been working on that chart. Neither remembers every single thing, but they’ve been piecing it together. Remembering who got with who, who did what, that sort of thing. ...I asked if either of them remembers us...hooking up.”
Another uncomfortable silence. He reached over, picking his cup back up, and taking a long, finishing drink out of it. Looking at the bottom, he let the slightest frown go before putting it back down, hoping no stray breeze would sweep through and carry it away; after all, it was his cup. Had his name on it and everything. He looked back over to find Hannah looking at him.
“Oh, right, you want to know what they said! ...Funny story...according to them? .....No.”
He looked back down at the ground.
“I...I don’t know what that says. But we didn’t. I’m…”
This time he trailed off. This was veering away from facts, back into feelings. And if there’s one thing Patrick Carson didn’t like to deal in, it was feelings, his or anyone else’s. He instantly wished he had more rum to drink, and contemplated getting up, going back inside, and refilling. But that wouldn’t end well; both of the two knew that if he left, this conversation wasn’t going to happen...and it needed to.
Sip…
Sip…
Sip…It was a good way to keep herself from speaking up until she needed to.
She gulped down the remainder of her drink, resisting the urge to throw her cup out into the parking lot just to get some amount of frustration out of her system. Instead, Hannah just sets her cup down between her feet, staring down at it for a moment. She was trying to listen, but the vodka, the stress, and the clock ticking in her own mind sorta drowned everything out.
Then...he stopped. He trailed off.
Then...her mind just...let go.
And she turned to really look at him, leaned over, and kissed him.
“Hey, Fish?
“Shush.”
Hannah flashed a grin and scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“I...I spent a lotta time thinking over Christmas, and...I mean…if everyone’s leaving, there’s not really...any reason for me to stay…”
It was a nerve-wracking thing to say, but she tried to keep her voice as confident as she could.
Meanwhile, the words hadn’t exactly registered in Patrick’s head. He was still reeling from how she stopped him from talking. He’d admit to himself, he had done...a lot of kissing over the past few days, and even though he hadn’t exactly returned this one due to its covert nature, it was still...different. Finally, the words that had left Hannah’s mouth seemingly forever ago slid into his mind.
“...So you’re saying…?”
He still didn’t want to be the one to say it, but his eyes finally met hers, and he smiled. He fished his own phone out of his pocket, looking down...almost in unison with the crowd back in Hannah’s apartment beginning the countdown from 10. Hannah flashed a smile up again, staying quiet at least for the moment.
9…
8…
7…
Each second met with a tap of her foot against the pavement.
6…
5…
4…
A grin spreads on the young woman’s face, as she again leans up to kiss him.
3…
2…
1…
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Their lips met in the middle this time, him returning the action. It was sweet, held for a few seconds, then released, their eyes opening to look at each other for the first time in 2016, with all the mystery it held going forward.
Hannah grins and leans her head against Patrick’s shoulder, echoing the sentiment.
“Happy new year.”
Patrick responded by wrapping his arm around her, pulling her as close as possible, and leaning his head down onto hers.
“Happy new year, Hannah.”
He sat there, their heads resting together, his eyes looking up to the sky.