Any Time At All

Chapter One

"Mommy, why did we move here?" You ask with you arms limply crossed over your chest. You walk into an empty house alongside your mother. She stands there holding your small, six year old hand. Her dark brown hair is short and curled up at the ends, surrounding her head like a barrier. You watch as her green eyes look down on on your (Y/E/C) eyes. She gives you a small smile and continues into the house, ready to begin the first of many days of monotonous unpacking. You whip your head around to see your dad walk in with the movers carrying all of your boxes.

Bored with what the grown-ups are doing, you walk out of the unfamiliar house. The light from the summer sun blinds you making your eyes adjust from the cold, dark house. Looking around, you spot a swing set on the lawn next to yours. A small smile forces itself onto your face showing all of your cute baby teeth. Hopping onto the swing, you  pump your legs back and forth to really get it going. Suddenly, you hear a door open. You look over to the front door of the large grey house in front of you. You stop swinging your legs as a small boy stands at his front step.

Confusion is written all over the little brunette boy's face. He slowly walks over to you. Still sitting on the swing, you flash the boy a smile. "Hi, my name's (Y/N). What's yours?"

"I'm Steve," he pauses. "What are you doing on my swing?" Steve questions with a slight tilt of his head, making his small locks of hair slide across his face. He runs a hand through his hair quickly.

"Steve?" A woman comes speed walking over to you and the boy. "Steve, honey, who's this?" She puts both of her arms on Steve's shoulders.

"Mom, this is (Y/N)," Steve points at you. His mom grabs his arm and scolds him for pointing. The woman looks up at you and asks where your parents are.

You point over to the next house on the right. She grabs your hand and drags you quickly over to the house with the moving trucks in front of it as well as the ones stretched along the street. You reluctantly follow and look up at the dark grey house. The woman pushes past the white wooden door and into the now full, well lighted room.

Your mother looks over at you sternly. "What did you get yourself into, (Y/N)?" Your mother grabs your wrist from Steve's mother's light grasp. "I am so sorry, my name is June Webb. This is my daughter, (Y/N) and my husband, Mark." She shakes hands with Steve's mom.

"It's no worries, this is a safe neighborhood, I just wanted to make sure she got home alright. This is my son, Steven."

While the two women talk, Steve turns to you, "Do you want to be my friend?" He asks.

"Yeah, best friends!" You smile at steve and he blushes a bit, turning his head slightly to hide a smile.

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8 Years Later

You and Steve have been best friends since you were six. Nothing has broken you two apart. You love the same music, movies, and food. Sometimes it feels like you two are just one person. It's the summer of '81. Both of you are out of 8th grade and are going to be in highschool in one day.

You and Steve didn't spend any time apart. You two were joined at the hip. Your (Y/H/C) hair is laying down on your frail shoulders with multiple layers and bangs that swoop across the left side of your face.

Steve loves the way your hair fits your face perfectly but he could never tell you that. Steve has progressively fallen in love with you over the years but doesn't want to ruin your friendship and so he keeps his mouth shut.

You walk around your room that is now filled with pictures of you and Steve hanging from parts of your soft yellow walls. Your twin sized bed sits in the corner of your room with a light green comforter, styled with white flowers. Colorful throw pillows sit in front of your matching light green pillow that you sleep on. The cream colored carpet is clean with a large cushy chair sitting infront of your closet that holds about ten shirts. A large walk in closet holds all your new school clothes mixed in with your old clothes. You love your room. It's like your safe place. Steve's room is like your second safe place.