Vinliam Oneshots II •🦢•

Past Au: Rock-skipping

"Vince! Vince! We're almost there!" William exclaimed with a giggle, his feet trudging down the winding forest path, the midday sun casting dappled shadows through the canopy above. The soft rustle of his running and Vincent's pants mingled with the gentle babbling of the river they were heading to. Each young boy carried a small satchel, though what was more important to them were the stones scattered along the riverbank.

Vincent glanced sideways at him, feeling a flutter in his chest everytime William smiled, which wasn't often. He wondered what it meant, he thought it felt odd, a sickly sensation in his stomach like he was about to throw up but in a sweet way. He let out a small sigh and his eyes diverted away, stretching his arms out. "So, did Alder show you this part of the lakehouse? The water is very calm.. it's perfect for skipping stones."

As they sauntered around the final turn, the broad pine trees parted to reveal the serene riverbank. The water glistened in the sun, and the lakehouse was settled nearby, its rusty and rotting exterior giving the circumambient a mysterious ambience. William admired the new sight with wide eyes, "No... no, he didn't."

Vincent chuckled and the edges of his mouth widened into a smile as he nodded at William's fumbling response. He dropped his backpack in the grass and crouched by the water's edge, picking up a flat stone and running his fingers over its smooth surface.

The ombre-haired boy was standing still, locomoting around while keeping a careful eye on the water, "How many skips do you think we can actually get?" He turned his head back at Vincent's bent-over posture.

"Probably at least three, the most I say ten." He stood up straight. William nodded in excitement and waited for him to head past.

Vincent approached the river, took a deep breath, and flicked his wrist, sending the limestone rock skimming across the water. It bounced three, four, five, six, seven times before sinking. He turned to William with an arrogant smile, "You should try and beat that, peanut."

William scrunched his nose up at the statement, "I told you to stop calling me those stupid nicknames." He frowned, throwing a more smaller pebble at his body.

Vincent winced but he could feel heat rush to his cheeks, giving himself a crooked grin. He watched with amusement as William also went up to the copious amounts of stones, choosing one carefully. Then, he swapped his position to a deeper part of the river before sending it flying. Eight steps. Vincent watched, impressed, but more captivated by the look of joy on William's face than the stone's performance.

They continued skipping stones, laughing and teasing each other, their voices mingling with the lake's dragonflies and crickets surrounding them. As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue over everything, Vincent found himself standing closer to William, their shoulders occasionally brushing as he bit his thin lower lip nervously. William had thrown one more stone, it was just a casual five skips, but still impressive. He shuffled his feet and slightly inched closer, his chest burning with a feeling that little him couldn't comprehend. But he liked this feeling now, he had only felt it around William.

In the fading light, with the river shimmering beside them, Vincent reached out and took William's hand. It felt right, and the fluttering in his chest turned into a steady warmth. William squeezed his hand gently, and they stood there for a moment, just enjoying the sight.