Kerosene Flames and an Explosive Smile

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A/N: This chapter was written on a phone and not a computer so the paragraph spacing may be disconfigured
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I've got a turmoil of emotions bubbling in my stomach, and I think vaguely that this must be what being high feels like. My heart is beating like it wants to escape my chest, and I can't tell whether it's keeping time to the music or rushing from the adrenaline of being next to
Danny.

We had fallen in to a comfortable conversation, filled with laughter and snark and awkward eye contact. It had been wonderful, exciting, everything I could have dreamed of.

"And so then..." He's choking out the words through laughter, "Paul here..." He doubles over laughing, and, over his shoulder, I see Paul roll his eyes and give me a wink. Suddenly, the loud screaming in the microphone gives way to a soft guitar beat, and Danny's laughter fades almost immediately. His body starts swaying just as the soft 'ooooohhhhhh....ooooooh's start to fill the stadium and lawn. Paul and I start swaying with him.

"You know this could be the last of all the rides we take" his voice is softer than I expect, and I join in. "So hold on tight at don't look back"
He looks at me with a blissful smile, eyes crinkled in joy. "Kids from yesterday?" He asks, as if appraising me.

"One of my favorites" I tell him with a smile, still swaying softly. We exchange a quick smile and a fist bump, because, c'mom, the moment can't get that gooey.

Struck by a sudden idea, I reach in to the depths of my backpack and pull out a lighter. Danny looks at me inquisitively out of the corner of his eye, before forgoing secrecy and turning to face me.

"Why are you getting out a lighter?" I almost laugh at the tinge of fear in his voice.
By way of answer, I flick my finger and turn on the flame, which softly illuminates our surroundings. The sky had grown dark, decorated with a smattering of stars, the shadows enveloping the lawn. My Chemical Romance is a circle of light in the near distance.

I throw my hand with the lighter strait up as I sway side to side, waving the small flame in the air.

"Oh!" Danny says in surprise. "Why do you have a lighter?"

"I like camping" I tell him. "Sometimes supplies just gets left over in my backpack. I don't have any extras though, sorry"

Danny gets one from Paul, but by the time it's in his hand and waving alongside me, another 50 people have taken out lighters, their numbers steadily growing. Before I know it, the whole crowd's holding up tiny flames, small beacons of light in an encompassing dark. Hundreds of voices trail behind the one in the microphone appreciatively. The moment is beautiful, and soon, one song fades to the next, and then the next, and, before I know it, we've sat in a comfortable silence for about half a hour. The only noises we make are singing along and wild screams. And it's okay that way. I'm comfortable.

"Skylar?" He asks suddenly, laying a gentle finger on my shoulder.

"Yes?" I ask, twisting slightly away from the brightly lit stage to face him. The ground beneath me throbs, shaken by bass speakers and shouting voices. It's hard to hear him.
"If you loved my YouTube videos so much, and are such a big fan, how come you didn't know I lived 15 minutes away from you?" His voice is curious, but has an accusatory edge.

"I thought finding out where you lived would be crossing a line" I explained, smiling slightly. "It's normal to know your favorite food or color, but I respect your privacy, so I never tried to search for where you live"

"Oh" His shoulders relax at that, and his stiff sitting position slowly sinks in to a lying position, sprawled across the joint blankets. He folds his arms behind his head and looks up at the stars. "Thanks for letting me use your blanket" he says, after pausing a moment in quiet contemplation.

"My pleasure" I tell him, and lie next to him, mocking his position. Our elbows, both folded to support our heads, are barely brushing. My heart misses a beat before jumping back to the crazed thumping.

There's the strum of a guitar, which reverberates across the field, and then a loud cheer (GOOD NIGHT MARYLAND!) , and then everything is eerily quiet. All that's left is the subdued muttering of blissfully tired out fans and the fluttering noise of picnic blankets bring folded. I remain unmoving, and so does Danny.
"Do you want to just stay here?" His voice is so soft, I barely hear it.

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