Gabriel: Prequel

thirteen

[ harper's pov]

Gentle streams of lilac weave through the patterend cirrus clouds of the blue sky.
The five of us are sat underneath lanterns of scarlet and amber, illuminating across the gliding currents of the river. Each day, one of us rotates the venue for the night; Gabe had chosen the river bay by the lights, which I should give credit for - it's romantic and very him.

Nicholas and Amancia lay against the hollow bark of a tree, his arm wrung around her neck as she nestles closer. Rehan, however, makes a disgruntled face at them and us, laying flat on the ground.

I drape my leg over Gabe's, unnecessarily marking my territory over him. He shows no fuss, instead smirking at my touch, lightly tracing circles over the plane of my stomach.
"You're pretty romantic, Gabriel. It's quite a turn on."

"Oh, yeah? I thought being romantic was my most predominant trait," he grins coolly, drumming his finger against my skin, the softness of his touch sending chills across my body.

I tilt my face in mock thought, humming, "Care to prove the theory?"

Pressing his finger deeper, he leans close enough that his warm breath lightly fans my cheek. "Name the time and place, Harp."

"Harp?"

"Harp," he repeats, making a popping noise at the end of it.

"That's new."

"Nice observational skills," he grins, patting my leg.

"Ha, ha, Gabriel, " I roll my eyes, angling my body to his direction.

"Gabriel?"

I nod, leaning back against his arm, proud. "You told me that name a long time ago, and I said it. It sounds more solidified than 'Gabe'."

"My reasoning is much better than yours."

"You shortened my name by two letters; how is that better?"

He sits up straight, bringing his knees to his chest and intertwining our fingers. "When I was younger, before my dad was shitty, he and my mom put me forward for a lot of after school clubs - one being music clubs. I learnt how to play the piano; the cello; the guitar and the harp. The harp was, and still is, one of my favourites. I like how the string flow beneath my fingers so effortlessly. You're my harp, Harper: you're effortless in everything you do, including making me happy."

My mouth dries at the words and my insides turn the wrong way out. I didn't know that he was, basically, a prodigy child. Especially one in the music area. In the past, I thought of myself as someone who repressed - a stoic. Nothing and no one could get past my defences, and the only attention I gave them was anger. Maybe this thing with Gabe isn't forever, or maybe it's something eternal, but either way, I'm happy with him and he's happy with me. The thread of trust between us wavers by each second, making it harder to consider the option of leaving him.

"You win. Your explanation is definitely better," I smile, squeezing his hand, "Teach me the harp one day."

"For sure, but be warned, I'm a mean teacher. Strict, even," he wags his finger in front of me, frowning. The amber lights from the lantern glows in the blueness of his eyes, tingling my inside.

"Bring it on, old man."

He laughs in response, pressing a feather light kiss to the temple of my head.

"How have I not stopped third wheeling?" Rehan calls, stirring Nicholas awake.

"Why did you wake me up for that?" he grumbles, leaning into his girlfriend, who smiles at his touch. Nevermind me being a stoic, Nicholas takes first prize for that one, with the exception of Amancia smoothing his flaws out.

"Because I'm tired, why else?"

"I refuse to believe you're best friends," Gabe remarks, shaking his head as he laughs; his laughter is soft and light, fitting his personality, to be honest.

"We aren't best friends," Nicholas mutters, giving him the side eye.

In mock fashion, Rehan covers his mouth in shock, pouting.

"That's not cute," I sigh at him, covering my eyes.

"You're not cute, either," he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

I visibly cringe, waving my own gesture at him. 

After a while, we split into different pairs - originally, I was to be with Rehan, but swapped the names with Gabe so that I ended up with Nicholas, who doesn't speak much when parted from his girlfriend; joyous. The other three linger by the wooded area, sharing amusing stories or something as they laugh after every minute.

Nicholas and I, however, wander to the river, taking a seat by the river bank, sitting in a, hopefully, comfortable silence.

"Most people are comforted by the fact that the sound of water gushing induces neurochemicals, which increase blood flow and help you relax," he suddenly says, gently wading his hand through the water.

The sudden fact renders me slightly speechless and I deliberate how to respond. It's rare to engage him in conversation, and even more improbable that he strikes up a conversation, first. "I don't think anyone is comforted by that, to be honest."

"I am not, either," he shrugs, letting his hair fall over his shoulders, "I like how it is constantly moving, always going somewhere. The river has a destination: it transports sediment and heads to the ocean, moving freely. I like that."

I nod, not daring to respond with something stupid that will make him stop the conversation.

"I never had a destination; I ran from my family a lot, wanting to go anywhere. Truthfully, I didn't like the idea of having to abide by the plan of a normal life. To study; to be employed; to marry; to have children, and then to die. It's tightening."

"Very fucking tight," I agree, to which he nods to.

"Extremely. So, I left for good, but actually, not having a plan is not that great, either," he smiles wryly.

"You're greedy; did you know that?"

"Uh, what?" His eyes widen as he studies my face for an answer.

I pat him on the shoulder, offering a small, resolute smile. "You can't be lost and guided at the same time. You made a choice, and now you gotta stick it to the end. Otherwise, you become confused and that's worse than being lost or having a plan."

For a while, he stays silent, continuing to glide his hand through the moving water. After the others call us back to go home, he turns around, smiling. Not a small smile, but a wide smile. I smile, too, glad we reached an understanding. However, maybe he isn't the one being greedy: maybe it is me.