MorMor One Shots

1924

Congregations of greens and yellows leaned away from strong trunks of chestnut, and splattered the sky like a canvas; beams of light filtering through the gaps and dotting the ground where light treads by heavy boots were trodden. The gentle pattering and swishing of the river were just ahead, giving the already serene atmosphere an extra air of tranquility, and the cheerful chirping of the birds hopping from branch to branch added an extra euphonic harmony to the composition. The heavy beat of Jims boots as he strolled towards the river, hands shoved in his pockets and taking his time as he took in the scenery, disrupted the natural melody of the woods, and robins and blue-tits flitted away from the trees and left behinf only the sound of their flapping wings.

Jim's decision to explore the woods near his residence came with a nagging boredom, and now he became fatigued at the simple stroll, and so ventured further. Halting in the centre of the dirt path where it split and divided into two, he hesitated slightly before taking tentative steps forward onto the grass verge, and lifted a hand to push away a thin branch dressed and decorated in dangling leaves, pushing and shoving his way through the obstacles as twigs snapped under his weight.

The whooshing of the river became gradually louder as the boy went on, stopping at times to inspect the colourful bugs clinging to the surfacesof the leaves and the rough bark of the tree trunks, before he finally pushed aside a branch to stumble onto the riverbank. The water was fresh enough to be clear, all the way to the soft cremes and browns of the pebbles underneath, and allowed you to peer at the fish dancing and twisting back and forth through the dazzling blue. However, the beauty of the river wasn't the object of Jim's attention as he paused at the grassy opening of the riverbank. A boy - around Jim's age at 17, stood in the middle of the short stream; the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his light brown trousers bunched up around his knees as to avoid getting wet as he bent at the waist, concentrating hard and gaze flitting over his view of the stream, and trying to catch a fish with his bare hands.

Jim blinked profusely as he watched him, surprised the find anyone this deep into the woods, and he absorbed every flickering image. The boy was fair-haired; streaks of blinde dominating flashes of light brown, and coming across as more of a strawberry blonde than a platinum. His hair hung over his foreheadin sharp shocks of short loose waves, and served as a stark cintrast to Jim's slicked back and ebony hair, just a lick unfurling from the rest and curling in a stray ringlet on the side of his forehead. The boy was also strong; a sharp jaw and lithe, fit figure conveying him as a hard worker, and the blonde didn't notice Jim for a good few seconds, before he shifted on his feet and the sharo snap of a twig under his boots made the boys head whip up in alarm, before his expression contorted into that of surprise.

It wasn't silent for long, and Jim was the first to speak, with a cocked head and inquisitive look on his face.

"...What are you doing?"

The other boy fumbled at that, glancing around himself as if he had forgotten his own activities, and.a flush spread across his cheeks in embarrassment before he stopped, and looked back up at him with a sheepish expression and a shrug, a single wave flopped over one of his eyes, and obscuring his view slightly.

"Just....catching fish...?"

Jim's head was still cocked to the side, frowning slightly.

"Aren't they slippery? Wouldn't a rod be better?"

The boy gave a non-commitent shrug this time, simply stating

"More fun"

The dark haired boys' gaze slowly moved to the clear waters of the stream following that, narrowing his eyes with a thoughful look on his face as the fish; their shimmering scales glistening in the light of early afternoon, flicked and flitted back and forth round the other boys feet. He fumbled to fill the silence, interpreting the lack of conversation as awkward, and his polite nature implored him to gesture down to the stream in front of him as his gaze lingered on Jim.