We Are Dreamers

Entry Eighteen: Florence Pugh

A/n: This post is for the birthday girl herself. Happy 27th birthday Florence. I doubt you'll ever read this but if you do, well, happy freaking birthday.

A/n 2: This ended up being a bit angsty, and as much as I don't really like writing Angsty stories, I felt it was right to do so. I do hope you enjoy this. Because it was sorta fun writing.

~×The Poem×~

Golden locks under,

the setting sun. Ember flecks,

burst with vibrant hues.

The pen picks up off of the paper. You can tell it's been worn out with a thousand and one scribbles over words that didn't match or didn't have any meaning to them. Blue and black ink filled the page with little to no white left. The only thing that stood out in that one page was how the haiku nestled neatly in the left hand top corner of the page. The creator, you, soon realized that they had created something beautiful.

"Loralei!"

A smile spreads over the person's lips upon hearing that beautiful deep raspy voice. Thick British accent accompanies the tone.

"Up here Rory!" You call back just as you shut the worn out brown leather bound notebook. It was halfway filled with clippings and little doodles. Along with other random scribbles and pressed flowers. It's been with you since highschool, your best friend gave it to you for your birthday. You were 16 then. You're 24 now.

"Of course!" You hear the same voice just as the owner struggles to hoist themselves up into the old treehouse in the back of your old garden/backyard. "I always find you hiding somewhere that involves me climbing high places."

You pushed up from the old desk and stood in the middle of the slightly smaller space. The notebook is back in your hand. You were meant to just come up here and grab it but one thing led to another and you spent over an hour trying to finish a poem you left unattended for 8 years. And by golly, you did it. Your eyes scanned the area, finding that it was bare after having cleaned it out the day before. See, your parents were moving across seas to Japan which meant they were selling this home. So everything needed to go.

"Yo! Dork waffle! Help me up."

You spin around to spot your childhood best friend and long time partner, Florence Pugh. The poem? It was about her. But you kept your mouth shut and reached down to grab her outstretched hand. Slowly you pull her into the treehouse and step back to give her room. She takes a quick sweep before patting her hips and looking at you. The both of you were about the same height. You were maybe 2 inches taller.

"Did you find what you came for?"

"Mhm. Along with some old memories." You offer her a smile. She offers one back but it doesn't meet her eyes.

Ember flecks~

You tilt your head, giving her a confused look. "What is it, Sweet Rose?"

She smiles at the nickname and shakes her head.

"Nothing."

You step closer and raise a hand to touch her left wrist. "It's not nothing if you won't look me in my eyes. What? What's wrong?"

You watch as she sucks in a shaky breath before looking around once more and you can tell she's about to cry. Quickly you wrap your arms around her shoulders and pull her into your embrace, hugging her close to your chest just as her arms hook under your own to hold onto your shoulders from the back. Her face pressing tightly to your neck.