𝚂𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝙼𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 (Complete)

𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚜

"You took me to an empty field?" I ask as I behold the boring sight before me. We're standing at the top of the hill in front of a field just off the road. I lean against a nearby tree with no interest.

"Potential. Look at its potential," Lucas tells me, practically glowing with positivity. He grabs my wrist and pulls me forward.

"Fields don't have potential," I deadpan. "The grass either dies or it miraculously lives. Plus the plants in fields always make me itchy."

He simply ignores me as he rushes forward, dragging me along as he spins and half falls down the hill. I scream as he pulls me down into the grass, and we go rolling to the base of the hill.

As I sit, trying to gather my senses as the world stubbornly spins around me, Lucas begins walking around with his arms held up to his sides and spinning slowly, almost as though he's breathing in the smell of the wind.

"What are you? A reproduction of 'The Sound of Music'?" I question as the world finally comes to a standstill.

"The hills are alive...with the sound of music," Lucas opera sings as he walks forward with his hands in his pockets. He continues his dramatic performance, "With songs they have sung...for a thousand years..."

My face and arms fall to the grass and my hair follows behind, hiding my face. I peek through the strands and watch as he runs his hands through his hair and looks around, imitating Maria like it is the part he was meant to play his entire life. The breeze catches his shirt and plays with the cloth until it is wrinkled. A bird flies close as though attracted to Lucas' voice, tweeting its own tune along with its new bestie.

All of it is the most cringe I have ever seen in my entire life. And the worst part is that he's so into it that I can't get him to stop.

Ｃｒｉｎｇｅ

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

Ｃｒｉｎｇｅ

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰

But then I see a few animals emerging from the forest, and it's like I see Snow White flashing in front of my eyes. "That's it," I say, stomping forward and grabbing his wrist. "We're going to school—even if we're like an hour late."

He continues singing and the birds follow as I set towards the hill at a fast pace, hoping to gain some momentum for the climb. It doesn't help much but determination helps me reach the top.

I don't notice that Lucas has stopped singing until suddenly I'm falling again, and my eyes automatically squeeze shut. Something soft breaks my fall and two arms wrap around my waist as I go rolling down the hill once again. At the bottom, the arms let me go, and I roll onto my back, arms extended to my sides. I look over and see Lucas lying beside me, staring at the clouds.

"People are so much like clouds, aren't they?" Lucas breaks the silence.

"What?" I question, making sure I heard him correctly.

"There is not one cloud that is alike," Lucas murmurs. "What they have in common is what they're made of and how they're made. They all cry because of water droplets built up inside them. Those water droplets could come from all sorts of places as long as there is enough heat to make it rise." He pauses. "When I look at clouds, I wonder, 'How long will it take for them to cross the sky?', 'Will they cry before they are out of sight?', 'Are they waiting for a place where no one is paying attention to them, or do they cry because no one is paying attention to them?', 'When it's mostly sunny, are those few clouds in the sky lonely? Or are they happy that there aren't many clouds who have those water droplets building up inside them?'." He gives the sky a small smile and reaches his hand up as if he's trying to touch them. "You know, you're a cloud too, Paris."

A breeze flows by, whipping my hair into my face and blocking my view. When my hair finally falls, I turn away from Lucas onto my side and rest my head on my hand. "Did you bring me here to cloud watch?" I ask scornfully.

"What part of the sky do you think I am?" he asks, ignoring my question.

I sigh and reply, "Probably the sun."

He makes a loud noise with his throat and yells, "Wrong!"

I flip to my other side and begin to protest, "But—"

"I'm a cloud too," he interrupts, his lips rising higher. "And I'm proud of it. You should be too."

I scoff, turning onto my back again and blocking the bright sun with my hand. "Why?"

"Because it would be weird if we were perfect."

"You don't think it would be nice?"

"Sure, I mean, because we're not perfect, the world is completely messed up—broken by its inhabitants over hundreds of thousands of years. But even if we weren't meant to be shattered, we can still look at things positively."

"Why should we?" I turn to my side again and fold my arms, bringing my knees up and ignoring the rough grass scraping my skin. "What's the point of positivity if we're just going to die all alone in the end?"

"Who says you're going to die all alone?"

"Just forget I asked." I wiggle my fingers and frown at the sunlight dancing between them. I sit up and lean back on my arms, supporting myself as I stare at the small forest surrounding the field.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Lucas sits up next to me and says, "You know when you said that I always say the right thing?"

"You probably don't even understand what I'm saying. You always say the right thing like some sort of protagonist in a television show. It's just...so unfair."

"Of course I remember," I reply curtly, pushing the memory out of my mind. "It was the most embarrassing conversation I have ever had with anyone."

"Well, while it's true that I am the protagonist in my own story, I definitely don't always say the right thing. In fact, I embarrass myself all the time."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Like when?"

"This morning I saw my busy mom for the first time in a month. You wanna know the first thing I said to her?"

"What?"

"'Sup, homeslice.' You wanna know what I told my busy dad I haven't seen in three months?"

I look at him skeptically, but he still continues, "So, Lord Dad, at last we meet for the first time for the last time. Then I told my cat that our conversation may be recorded for training purposes."

I cover my mouth to hide my laugh. "You really said those things?"

He nods his tomato-colored face. "You know the saying, 'When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade'?'"

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, I prefer the saying, 'When life gives you a violin, make a rock song and electrocute the crowd with your awesomeness'."

I raise a single eyebrow.

"It means that, when you don't like what you get, just turn it into a tool to get what you want. I was born with a dad who hates music and a mom that hates noise. I turned it around and now I'm making my way up to the top of the music business. You see what I mean?"

"I guess so," I reply. I look down at the grass and watch each blade sway in the breeze, looking as carefree as ever.

"Cheer up, Par. You'll find a way to make a rock song and shine like a star."

A smile starts to flicker on my lips, but then I suddenly realize what he called me. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME PAR!" I tackle him and shake his shoulders as he laughs his face off.