Stalls ✔️

S I X

0 6:

I felt like absolute shit. I guess when your bestfriend is leaving the city, it's not supposed to feel amazing. No matter how hard you try to destroy those actively negative thoughts that wriggle around your emotions.

Evil, inconsiderate idiots. Always attempting to sabotage every great aspect of your life, from the depths of your own head. And that fucking sucks.

After devouring two pizzas between us (unevenly distributed I might add) and a slice of Riley's favourite cake, we were all pulled into his living room. The four of us slumped comfortably on his leather sofas that were lined with budgeted fairy lights for this occasion. Asleep by The Smiths was permanently applied in the background noise by special request.

We sipped some of his mums left over wine. It was just the five of us, as Riley's brother's leaving party was at the local leisure centre. Much more spectacular, alternatively not as sentimental.

In unison, we surprised our friend with his presents. In return, he stood before us, his feet firmly on the ground. He began pulling our presents from a brown sack that stood a few metres off the floor.

It was sweet, however no one could deny the inevitable thick loss that danced loudly in the atmosphere between our bodies. And in that moment I swear, I knew I'd never mentally tear apart those smelly subs again.

"For you, my lady, a golden compass, and a gigantic Lucario." He threw them over to Hunter. Her frizzy, chocolate hair was scraped into a cute, tight bun. "Because as muted as you usually are, you'd talk about Japan as if it was your own home town. I know you'll make it there one day and I know how much it means, so with this you'll never be lost." He winked cheekily. I had to admit that I was jealous of the giant Pokémon.

Hunter pulled herself from her seat, and wrapped her arms around Riley's torso. She whispered a merely audible 'thank you', which took us all aback; Hunter had built a personal barrier from physical affection, especially from him. In addition to this, Hunter hardly ever cried. None the less, when she did, I was the first to notice. I sure as hell did notice, and a thoughtful smile tugged at my lips.

Wren must've noticed, because she smiled too, carefully taking my hand into hers. Everyone was too tied to the moment to give it a glance. A slight blush tinted my cheeks, like pink watercolour on a white canvas.

"For you, Wren." He continued after Hunter sat down.

He pulled out a gift card, and slipped it into her unaccompanied hand. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the Steam logo finely printed on the plastic; Wren loved gaming. That aspect of her jumped out at you. She mouthed a 'thank you' and I braced myself for my turn.

"And finally, my darling, for you." He teased. Letting go of Wren's hand, I nervously stood before him. "A journal, because you're an aspiring writer, and quite frankly, I got so sick of you tearing out odd pages from my notepad." He chuckled.

I took the book, tracing my nimble fingers carefully down the blue fabric, as if it were sacred. It was trimmed with gold, and the middle read my name, Alana James, in identical gold lettering. I held it closely to my chest, and leaned closer to him, brushing my lips against his cheek - to thank him with a platonic peck.

I managed to stagger out a witty, "you're still deep in the friend-zone though, buddie." And everybody burst into mountains of laughter. I was about to take my seat, when he interrupted.

"I'm not done with you, Alana James." He spoke. He held in his hand something I knew I'd never forget: it was a vintage, round record sealed in a yellow envelope. He held tightly his fingers over the label. "A couple of weeks ago, you told me you missed it when we were little, when we used to dance on your back garden to your dads record player with Tyler.... that time when it rained, remember?"