orange : luke

prologue

future

the sound of nearby waves crashing softly travels through the air, the familiar sound giving both feelings of satisfaction and longing among them.

satisfaction because them being there, after so long, made them feel at home.

and longing, because they all wish that one person was still here, listening to the waves with them.

"is everyone ready?" june asks, looking around at the faces of each of her friends as they sit around a table, where a round tin cookie container sits, still covered in bits of sand.

"we waited ten years for this," michael says, exhaling, "makes me not want to open it at all."

they all stay silent, looking down at the tin container. as an outsider, you'd probably think, why are these people circled around a cookie container? are they part of a cult? are the cookies really that good?

the weight of that tin container will only make sense when you're one of the people surrounding it. june, sunday, michael, calum and ashton are the only people on earth who know the value it has.

because 10 years ago, they decided to make a time capsule, which is the tin container they had just dug up 3 minutes ago.

calum looks around, trying to think of a topic to segue them away from the container, certain that none of them want to open it yet. "it's a good thing you guys still own this beach house, june and sunday. we didn't have to dig up the time capsule earlier in case you guys sold it."

june and sunday smile in response.

june and sunday are sisters, with a 2-year age gap. their family owns the beach house where this bunch spent most of their summers in, until they all had to go away for college.

they were all currently on the deck of the beach house, after having dug up the tin container from under the sand, right under the deck, where it had been sitting for 10 years.

"oh, fuck it," sunday says, reaching for the container, "let's just rip the band-aid off."

sunday had always been that way, always the one who initiates things, and wants to get things done as quick as possible. if it weren't for her, they would probably sit on the deck for more than an hour before they decide to open it.

she starts swiping the sand away from the lid, and the others watch quietly. they watch as she slowly unravels the duct tape from where the lid meets the body of the container, the tape still undeniably doing it's job, since she's having a hard time ripping the tape off.

and, as though it's muscle memory, sunday immediately hands ashton the tin container. ashton instantly caught on and started removing the tape for her.

the others exchanged knowing looks around the table, all of them still having the same thought as they had ten years ago. sunday and ashton should've been endgame.

once ashton successfully removes all the tape, he hands the container back to sunday. and in front of everyone's eyes, sunday takes the lid off, revealing the contents of the container.

"holy shit," sunday exclaims, dipping her hand inside the container, "it's my favorite seashell!"

she takes a colorful seashell out from the container, her eyes gleaming. "i picked this up during one of my favorite walks on the shore."