If I Needed Someone

Friendship

(1949)
I ran. I ran so far away. But I could never outrun him. George was the fastest runner I knew, and I always lost this game from that fact.

"Got ya, Y/N! Just like always! You're it!" George giggled, already sprinting away. I happily sighed and barely got George. I ended up tackling him as we rolled down the largest hill, laughing and holding onto each other. "You're it." I say as we race up the hill, him, winning of course.

We sat up there for a little while, gazing at the gorgeous sunset. It was peaceful, but the awkward quietude was too much for George. His hand got closer to mine, as he whispered the words "I love you, Y/N.".

This shocked me. George was my best friend and my neighbor. He was a few months younger than me, and we were inseparable best friends, but he never showed feelings of love. Sure, he may have blushed a few times in other moments like these in the past, but he never confessed his true feelings.

I was speechless. "Will you marry me, Y/N?" He asked, picking a dandelion from the flower filled field and handing it to me. "Please pumpkin?" His puppy eyes melted my heart, and that nickname he came up with a year ago never failed to make me smile.

"George, we're kids, we can't get married," I laughed, still holding the flower. "I'm aware, pumpkin, I mean when we're older. Please?" He took the dandelion and tucked it behind my ear. "You promise you won't forget about it?" I asked. "I promise." "Then yes, George, I would love to."

He handed me another dandelion. "Make a wish, pumpkin." I blew all of the white pollen stems off. "What did you wish for?" he asked. "For this moment to never end."

"George, Y/N, it's getting late. Louise is letting George stay the night." my mother called. "Race you down." I say as we roll down the hill, covered in grass and mud. Our first sleepover was definitely one to remember. We had the world by our side, we didn't have anything to worry about, it was just George and I, together forever, and already planning our future.

Or at least, so we thought...