THEY LOVED that game from the second they started to play it.
It became a part of them. They would play it in each others house, in the park, in the library (oh boy, that wasn't a good idea!), at school. Everywhere.
Other kids weren't allowed to play with them, for it was their game and only for them. The kids would either stomp their feet onto the ground out of disbelief or stick their tongue out at them or say it was a stupid game anyway.
They didn't care though. They would shrug and continue playing and playing, and playing until they got called home.
➳➳➳
"Say you're sick!" She croaked. She didn't want to let him go. He tried to get her off him, but she wouldn't budge. She couldn't lose her only best friend.
"I can't. Besides, it wouldn't stop them from changing their mind," he chewed on his lip nervously, not believing it either. This was his home, his everything.
"You can't do this to me, Remus," she sniffed, gazing up at him, her eyes throwing insults at him for leaving her. "You can't!"
"I don't have a choice. I'm sorry, Ziala," he apologized, cupping her cheeks with his hands. "I will never forget you and the great time we shared together. Never. Okay? I will send you lots of letters and chocolate!"
She guffawed at her best friends obsession with chocolate. She would scowl at him when his hands were full of chocolate from holding it too long. "Are you expecting me to play with you when your hands look like that?" She would sass him.
"You better." She smiled sadly, hugging him tighter and breathing his scent in, the smell of old jumpers, books, and chocolate filling her nose. She would never forget that scent. His scent.
"Remus, it's time to go!"
➳➳➳
Years have passed. Years without Marco Polo. Years without him.
Sitting in the library they used to play in, which send nostalgia through her body, she chuckled quietly at the memories that were flooding through her mind at that moment.
She was wondering how he was doing. At first, he did send sweet letters with chocolate. But that stopped soon. Why? She didn't know either. Though, she still wished and hoped he was happy with his new life.
She hoped his sudden silence didn't have anything to do with her, hoped there wasn't any trouble there where he was. Hoped, he hadn't found another best friend who would play Marco Polo with him. It was their game after all.
"Marco?"
She was alarmed. Snapping back to reality, she whipped her head to where that came from. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe kids were just playing, like how they used to play. But since when was a kids voice that deep?
"Marco?"
Eyes welling up with tears, she exaggeratingly gasped. Not caring about the damned rules of the library just like her younger self never did, she sprinted towards him, embracing him into a big, lovingly hug.
Ziala couldn't stop herself from crying on him when she buried her head in his chest, and he couldn't blame her. Years without each other was torture.
"Polo!"
