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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Welcome Home, Kauri

@gottalovethemwriters (won’t let me tag you!) requested: I know Kauri said he’d be there when Jake wakes up but could we have a drabble or snippet -or whatever you want, honestly- where Kauri wakes up and has to convince himself it’s okay to stay? please?

CW: Domestic abuse survivor navigating trust and relationships, some trauma response, PTSD references, referenced consensual spice

Jake is still asleep when Kauri slides out of bed.

After years of finding his way into apartments and bedrooms and basements next to a series of men he can barely remember, whose names slip off his tongue like oil or stick like ash or just don’t stay at all, Kauri is an expert at getting out of bed without waking the other people in it up.

He inches along the cool sheets and he doesn’t allow himself to look back until he’s out, pulling on his pants from the night before, tossed haphazardly with laughter. There’s an ache in him, sweet and slight, the stretched muscles of a night spent moving, laughing, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Jake’s waist, hands on either side of the other man’s face. His fingers twitch at the memory of Jake’s stubble scratchy against his palms, his cheek, his lips.

He can still hear it, still feel Jake’s hands sliding along the outsides of his thighs, shifting up to his hips, murmuring things in his ear in that low, deep voice that the really tall guys get sometimes.

He looks back, once his pants are on.

He gives himself a moment to love the ache, and mourn walking away from the promise he knows neither of them can keep.

Jake sleeps on his side, sprawled in the bed - king size, the one thing he told Kauri he couldn’t say no to when it was his own house, because he was six-foot-three and slept with his feet hanging off the edge of a bed his whole life since he was thirteen and he didn’t have to do that anymore, so he wasn’t about to - and the stress around his eyes and mouth drops away when he sleeps. Mussed-up blond hair and the line of his jaw catch Kauri’s breath in his throat.

The sight makes him forget, briefly, why he’s out of the bed at all.

I won’t be gone when you wake up.

He remembers.

“Sorry,” He whispers, too low-pitched to ever wake Jake up. He told Jake not to trust him - he’s told him a hundred times. Kauri can’t be trusted, he’s running from something inside of himself, and you can’t outrun your own emptiness. It follows you through every bus stop, every bad night spent sleeping on a bathroom floor or a park bench. It finds him through all the drinks and all the times he’s let himself be pushed up against the wall and taken, rough, and left limping to find the next direction to run.

He can’t run far enough to get away from this.

And Jake should have known better than to believe Kauri would be here, like he said. Everyone should know better than to believe Kauri’s promises.

He doesn’t believe them himself.

It’s with a burst of anxiety that he slides on his shirt, scratching lightly at the inside of his left wrist, digging into scars he wants to cover up with ink someday, maybe, but just… just can’t bring himself to do it. He’s had to hold still for too many needles, in his life.

Jake breathes, heavy and solid, and there’s a gravitational pull to that breathing, to the promise that if he gets back in bed, Jake will shift, and lay his arm over Kauri’s waist, pull him close, and that deep breath would shift the hair on the back of Kauri’s neck and send shivers down his spine. Kauri feels like he could circle Jake’s light.

It would be safe, wouldn’t it?

He could be safe, here.

But he’ll just hurt everyone, in the end, when the ugly inside of him finds its way out. If he doesn’t stay, that means he’s never here long enough to let his guard down, and they’ll never see him long enough to see what happens if he does.

If he doesn’t stay, Jake won’t see the emptiness inside him, the white light and cold walls and 162 tiles and roses and champagne and you’re so fucking lucky anyone ever loved you that chase him, and chase him, and never stop.

Anxiety turns to fear, bald-faced and laid hideously bare in the early morning pinkish-light cutting through the blinds, as Kauri turns the doorknob slowly, silently, and slips out of the room. He’s a coward for not trying to stay.

He’s exhausted by running.

He can’t stop.

He pads barefoot down the hallway, shoulders hunched. Antoni sleeps in this room, he thinks, letting his fingers graze over the roughened texture of the old wood, to the smooth frame around the door. If he knocked on the door, Antoni would wake up and let him in, and help him remember how to stay.

He doesn’t knock. He keeps moving.

The floor would creak, but Kauri knows how to avoid all the noisy spots. He’s done this a hundred times, two hundred, a thousand. Stay with someone, get up while they’re sleeping, sneak out the front door, and be gone before they wake up.

No one has to miss him.

No one ever does.

Right?

His backpack waits, next to his shoes, and he slides it on over his shoulders, humming in a half-whisper to Keira’s murmured greeting from inside. She’s all he really needs. She’s not dangerous, she won’t lock the doors, she won’t depend on him in ways he can’t possibly reciprocate.

He can’t be trusted, and Keira knows that. She’s been with him through every step, since Owen brought her home the first time in her big awkward box, since he named her, since the night Owen nearly killed him and broke her in ways that let her thoughts expand in ways they never could before.

Breakfast locations near me? Keira asks in her faintly metallic, feminine voice, muffled from inside the backpack.

“No,” Kauri whispers. “No breakfast. Let’s just go.”

Sensors indicate Kauri negative emotion feeling. Kauri reassurance require?

He moves out the door, sets the lock so it will click into place behind him, and closes the door. For a moment, he just stares straight ahead, at the nice little street, the sweet little neighborhood, the world that Jake lives in that is so far removed from what Kauri’s life has been. Run-down houses with cared-for yards, tricycles left out on sidewalks and in driveways, chalk drawings littering the world around him.

He hops down the stairs and starts walking.

“No,” Kauri repeats.

Kauri reassurance require. Keira’s voice is firm. Keira reassurance provide. Kauri good.

“Kauri’s not good.”

Kauri good.

“I told him I’d stay and I’m leaving. He should have known better than to believe me.” The sky is blue only around the edges, and mostly dark still overhead. He can see the last stars as the light of the sun begins to slowly overcome the colder, smaller light they send. He remembers, vaguely, that stars are photographs of already-dead things, sometimes.

He’s a photograph of a dead man, too.

“It is common for survivors of long-term domestic abuse to be afraid to enter into new relationships”-

“Don’t fucking quote Triumph at me again,” Kauri snaps, and then feels guilt, nauseous and heavy. “I’m sorry, Keira. I just-”

Want to go back.

He ignores her, now, and walks faster away from the house, from Jake, from the promise of safety he has never been able to trust. There isn’t anything safe about staying in one place, giving yourself up to be hurt again. There isn’t anything safe about staying.

“I told him. I told him not to trust me. I told him. I said you can’t, you can’t trust me to stay, you can never trust me to stay I won’t stay. I’ll run, I always run, because I can’t-... I can’t do anything else. He knows that, I told him I can’t stay.”

But he’d promised to try, the night before, weeks ago, he keeps promising to try and letting people down. That’s what he’s good at, after all. Letting people down.

Running when they want him to stay.

Disappearing when they need someone to rely on.

Sleeping on park benches just to prove a point, to himself if no one else, or to Owen, who he hasn’t seen in years and won’t ever have to see again, right? But still he wants to show Owen that he doesn’t have to stay in one place, that he can keep running and running and if he just keeps running, Owen won’t ever hunt him down, not even inside his own mind.

One block becomes two, and then three. A few hundred feet becomes a quarter-mile, and then half. He stops at a bus stop, standing a few feet away from the little covered shelter area, where a tired-looking older woman is already sitting with a thermos of coffee and a small service dog in a vest lying calmly at her feet. If she looks at Kauri, he doesn’t look back at her.

Just another young man running from whatever he’d done the night before, wearing the clothes he was wearing then, with his hair mussed and sticking out or pushed down. Just another dumbass who partied too hard and lived to regret it, right?

I want to stay, Kauri remembers himself saying, and closes his eyes against the hot rush of tears that hits, unbidden, unwanted. He’d said that. He’d told Jake he wanted to stay, and it was true, but if he stays they’ll see how little there is inside of him. How carved-out he is, how empty.

Bus arrival approximately nine minutes from now, Keira says from inside the backpack. The woman sitting in the bus shelter looks over at him and raises her eyebrow.

“Fitbit,” Kauri says automatically, and she makes a noise that could mean bullshit or could mean she believes him, and goes back to drinking her coffee.

He thinks again of Jake sleeping, sprawled out, long limbs and muscled shoulders. The way his face has changed, as Kauri has known him, losing the last vestiges of roundness from being young and gone more angular. The line of his jaw has sharpened with time, just like Kauri’s.

He doesn’t realize he’s lifted his own hand to his face, feeling the spot where jaw and neck meet, the flutter of his pulse underneath it.

Last night he had felt Jake’s heart beating fast, pressed a palm over it, pressed his ear there just to listen.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Keira provides helpfully.

“Shut up,” He mutters.

The woman doesn’t look over this time. Probably safer to ignore the guy talking to his Fitbit first thing in the morning, right?

Kauri stands there, minutes ticking by, and just as he sees the bus turning the corner at the end of the block, he shifts just enough of his weight from one foot to another to feel the ache inside him, as much emotional as physical. The ache of a night spent with someone who would rather die than hurt him, a night spent wrapped in arms that would - could - keep him safe.

The ache of a loneliness Kauri is tired of carrying, the rock he wants to put down more than anything on earth.

He turns and starts to walk away, listening to the rumbling engine as the bus pulls up to the stop, but he doesn’t go back and climb on. It would be old habit, to curl up in one of the seats ignoring mysterious stains and close his eyes, try to catch a little more sleep, before he gets out a few stops from now.

It’s easy to keep living the way he’s been living.

It’s harder to make the choice to stop.

Kauri heartrate accelerate.

“I know,” He whispers. His steps go faster, and faster, and then walking turns to running, his backpack smacking into his lower back. He ignores the flare of the ache inside him - or rather he holds onto it as tightly as he can, to the memory of laughing and lips on his neck and someone who wanted to look him right in the eyes the whole time because someone needs to show you you’re gorgeous, you never believe me when I tell you, I have to show you I never want to look away.

The slap of his shoes on the pavement is familiar but it’s not, too, it’s entirely new.

Kauri has been running from the tiny white room inside his mind, from hands around his neck, from a love that wasn’t, for too many years. He knows how to run from things, it’s a pattern he carries deep inside him.

What’s new isn’t the running - it’s that he’s not running away this time.

What’s new isn’t the movement of muscles, the soft sound of his jeans, the wind in his hair drying the tears in his eyes. What’s new isn’t a half-mile becoming a quarter-mile becoming a few blocks becoming one more turn around a corner and then a couple more blocks-

What’s new is the man he can see waiting for him, on the lawn, when he turns. Small as a finger, from the distance, but that doesn’t matter. Small in the distance, large in his mind, under his hands, in his heart.

Kauri stumbles to a stop, catching his breath, staring.

At the end of two blocks, Jake is sitting out on a lawn chair in front of his house, and there’s another chair next to him, and it hits Kauri like a brick to the back that the extra chair is for him.

“I want to stay,” Kauri whispers, lips barely moving to form the words.

Kauri good, Keira says. Kauri good. Kauri good.

“Go home,” Kauri tells himself. For a moment, a horrible awful dizzy second, his feet don’t move. “Go home, Kauri. Go home.”

Kauri go home, Keira supplies.

He starts running again.

Jake looks up when Kauri comes to a breathless stop in front of him. He’s still wrecked from sleep, his hair looks ridiculous, and his blue eyes are sparkling as he gestures to the chair. He’s wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a red t-shirt, and he’s never looked better, in Kauri’s eyes, than he does sleep-shadowed and touched by early morning sun.

“H-hey.” Kauri’s voice is breathless.

“Hey,” Jake answers, sipping his coffee from a deep blue mug he bought a few weeks ago, at a farmer’s market. Kauri was with him. Kauri picked out the mug.

There’s another one, pale with milk and sugar how Kauri likes it, settled on the sidewalk in front of the second chair.

“Door’s open,” Jake says, voice low, deep and soft. He doesn’t ask Kauri why he tried to run, or why he stopped, what brought him back. “I made coffee for you.”

“You… you were awake when I left.”

“Yeah.” Jake gives him a slight smile. “I told you - I’ll never stop you when you have to go.”

“But?” Say it again. Say what you said last night. Please, please, please say it again.

“But,” Jake says, and holds out his free hand, “The door will always be unlocked, for you, Kauri. I’ll always be waiting to let you back in.”

Kauri takes Jake’s hand in his, his long, thin fingers interlacing with Jake’s. He slides the backpack off his shoulder, lets it fall, gently to protect Keira inside, to the ground. Kauri good, Keira says, voice a little hushed. If she were human, it might be a whisper. Jakob Stanton reassurance provide. Kauri good.

“Kauri good,” Jake agrees, and Kauri moves to him like falling into orbit around a sun. “She’s right. You’re good, Kaur. You’ve always been good.”

“How did you know I’d come back?”

“I didn’t.” Jake grins, flashes slightly crooked teeth, evidence of a childhood where money for braces was never an option. His nose is a little crooked, too, evidence of having it broken more than once. It’s all a part of him, and it’s all perfect. “I hoped, but… mostly, I just didn’t mind risking looking like a fucking idiot out here in two lawn chairs by myself, for you.”

Kauri laughs, and the tears in his eyes are part of the laughter now, as Jake sets down his mug to pull him close, arms around his waist, resting his head against Kauri, cheek pressed to his stomach.

Kauri heartrate accelerate. Kauri go home.

“Kauri go home,” Kauri repeats, placing his hand on top of Jake’s head, running fingers through the mussed-up blond, sliding his palm down to cup the back of his head, fingers just brushing the nape of Jake’s neck. “That’s what I did.”

“Welcome home,” Jake says, eyes closed. “Welcome home, Kauri.”

“Welcome home, me,” Kauri whispers. Fear shivers over his skin, the hint of a memory of hands around his neck, locked doors, and pain. He lets it happen, doesn’t run from the memory this time, doesn’t try to chase it off. Just... lets it be there, and then feels the fear fade under the determination he’s made to stop running. “Welcome... welcome home.”

“Right. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold and ruins my big romantic gesture.”

Kauri laughs loud enough to start a dog barking halfway down the block.

---

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

#erase to control #fluff #hurt/comfort #all comfort no hurt #ptsd references #abuse survivor tw #survivor navigating trust #relationships after abuse #future kauri #jake the shelter guy #referenced consensual spice #original fiction

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dragon-fics · 3 years

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Shruikan's Rider (SR): Prologue: A Broken Bond {Inheritance Cycle fanfic}

Book description: Alys Emmasdaughter is going through the worst pain any Rider can ever go through--her dragon is dying and there is no way to save him.

While she mourns his inevitable death, the Eldunarí at the Dragon Riders' Academy inform her of a dragon who is suffering a similar fate

Alys led her silver steed up the path to the Dragon Rider Academy, high on Mount Arngor. Icy wind skimmed against her bare, almond arms as she focused on the dirt path beneath her. She felt and looked unkept; her frizzy, black hair was like a bird's nest; her clothes torn; and her skin filthy and dotted with scars.

The attack had been unprovoked; all she and her dragon, Ugauc, wanted to do was to visit the Stone of Broken Eggs near Ellesméra.

But that didn't happen.

Several hooded figures had struck them down, all baring spears that glistened with what Alys found out later was Seithr Oil; the product known to be used by the Ra'zac.

Every night, all she heard was Ugauc's cries as spiked nets doused in the erosive liquid dragged him down. The scene played over and over in her head; his cries, the pain, the figures emerging from the night's shadows, and them stabbing him to death as she killed them all with her blade. One by one, they had crumbled to the ground, leaving nothing but their scarlet cloaks behind.

From there, she ran to Ellesméra, seeking the aid of the elves, who insisted on her leaving as soon as Ugauc was stable, saying his recovery would be long and waiting there would render her useless.

But where she was wouldn't matter; without her beloved partner-of-heart-and-mind, she was useless.

Alys paused where she was and looked up, fighting off the tears forming in her eyes—again. It surprised her she had anymore tears to cry after her long journey back. She'd sob as she rode, keen while she ate, and cry as she slept—she was empty without him.

the ball of sadness in her heart was heavy, growing on its own accord throughout the day, causing her to crumble into tears unannounced.

And now was one of those moments.

Alys' throat grew sore and her lip quivered. Why had they done what they did? And why now, of all times, had the sadness grown stronger?

She placed her hands over her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. The last time she had walked along this path—or rather had to walk along this path—was when she was summoned, six years ago, by Eragon himself to be tested at the age of sixteen. According to the Eldunarí, her dragon Ugauc was the one for her. And they were right.

She wanted to reflect further, to remember his hatching and their training and his personality and how perfect he was, but she'd just end up wailing halfway up a mountain near people who she was supposed to tutor; now wasn't the time to bawl.

Alys continued her breathing, slowly gathering herself and drying off her eyes. "Kausta, Epona," Come, Epona, she said to her elf horse, putting on the bravest of faces she could muster and continuing up the path.

As she climbed, she thought of ways to distract herself; like what to put in the letter to her family for this month, or which eggs were ready to hatch next month; all the while fighting off any memory of a green dragon that emerged in her mind.

Finally, she stood in front of the large, open black-painted steel gates, looking in at the large sandstone courtyard. A few Riders stood about, talking to each other and preparing their dragons for slights.

Again, her sadness swelled.

Not now, she insisted. Don't think about him.

Alys pushed her head up high, pushing back any tears that were read to form and walked through the courtyard, focusing only on the large oak doors in front of her. On one door was a lifelike carving of a dragon, surrounded by fog at its feet with a tongue of fire escaping its maw. It looked down at the figure carving in the opposite door—its rider. The Rider seemed to be neither elf nor human, male nor female. Its features were pointed, like an elf's, yet its build was broader like a human's.

As soon as she reached the door, Alys turned to Epona and removed her belongings—a small pack of food and a book along with a rolled-up blanket. "Elrun ono, fricai," Thank you, friend, she said, stroking Epona's face.

The mare leaned into her touch and backed away before trotting out of the courtyard and out of sight.

Alys drew in a breath, shoving a new pulse of sadness aside and pushing open the varnished door. On the other side, she saw a few students bustling through the hall, with small dragons following them. She swiftly turned to the nearest set of stairs, jogging up to the dormitories.

From the outside, all the dorms looked like the inside of a beehive, openings in the rock connected by balconies and stairs. Each hole was big enough for most dragons to fit through, just like the corridors in the Academy. on the inside, it was nowhere near as intricate-looking, just three levels lined with average-sized doors and a large open balcony on each floor, so the dragons could fly up to the balconies if they couldn't fit through.

Alys loved the layout. It was so simple yet so thoughtful, allowing the dragons and riders to be individual yet have they stay in the stay quarters.

Alys continued her walk to her dorm, slowly opening the door with a quiet creak. She half expected to see Ugauc land on the balcony and make his way towards her, past his nest and her bed and her bookcase overflowing with books to nuzzle her. She closed the door with a quiet click and tossed her stuff onto her bed and looked out through the balcony, holding her arms akimbo and breathing deeply.

Alys shook her head, her sadness growing. A tear fell down her cheek, slowly, as she looked at the bright sun. She looked down at Uguac's nest, a large indent in the stone floor, lined with a thin cushion, littered with green scales and tufts of fur and feathers.

She smiled sadly at it and looked over at the green fragments of Ugauc's dragon egg on her ebony bookshelf. She drifted over to it, picking up the largest piece of the emerald shell, the intact base of the egg, where Ugauc had comfortably sat after he hatched, looking around at the hatchery and his Rider with his curious amber eyes.

Alys sighed sadly, wiping away her tears and swallowing hard, burying the lump in her throat as best as she could. She returned the fragment to its spot and stood back, tears returning to her cheeks again. "I miss you," she whispered.

The heavy flapping of dragon wings came close to her balcony, and a sapphire blue dragon landed on it. Alys looked at her, wiping away her tears. "Hello, Saphira. Eragon," she greeted.

Eragon slid off his saddle, brunette locks bouncing as he landed. His brown eyes softened. "Alys... I got word from the elves as soon as you came to them," he started, coming closer, Saphira following close behind him. "And may I say, I am so, so sorry. I should've sent someone with you." He drew in a breath, smoothing his hair with both hands. "It shouldn't have happened. I promise we'll find out who's responsible."

Alys looked down. "That's thoughtful, Eragon," she said. "But I... I don't think I want to find out; it's not going to change anything."

Eragon paused. "Alys, you can't say that. It's important that someone is held responsible."

She shook her head, fighting off more tears. "I'm sorry. I—I can't do this now," she turned around, holding herself. "Please, let me grieve."

Eragon went to reach for her, but retracted his hand. "I will investigate, to save others." He sighed and glanced at Saphira. "When you're up for it, I'm sure Eldunarí would like your company; they want to talk to you."

Alys nodded dismissively and listened carefully as they left before letting out a choked sob.

*-*-*-*

It took Alys weeks before she could force herself to leave her room to actually talk to people. A few would stop by throughout the day, giving their condolences and offering her the food they had brought. She excepted most of the food but ate little of it.

She plodded her way to the Hall of Colours, keeping her head low as she nibbled on her last apple slice. She ignored everyone that passed, focusing solely on her meeting with the Eldunarí. Finally, she began her climb towards the eyrie—Eragon's sleeping quarters—high in the hold, and at the last stop, he turning into a small side tunnel. She entered the large, disk-like chamber, looking ahead at the many tiered daises that held the array of gleaming Eldunarí. Multi-coloured flecks of light beamed around the room, brightening the cool room immensely.

Alys' mind grazed against the dragons' minds. She found it soothing, feeling their calmness when all she had felt was heartbreak for so long. Her eyes landed on Umaroth's white Eldunarí. He and Glaedr were one of the few she always remembered.

Welcome, Alys-vinr, Umaroth greeted.

Hello, Umaroth and everyone else, she responded, keeping her mind as pain-free as possible. I heard you wanted to talk to me.

Yes, we have some news, Umaroth said elusively.

Alys' heart skipped a beat; could they help Ugauc? Could they save him?

Her joy and thoughts of Ugauc flowed to the Eldunarí.

No, I'm sorry. We cannot help him.

Her heart sank, but she forced herself to push it aside. Pray tell.

We have found a dragon who needs your help, Shur'tugal, Glaedr explained.

Alys sighed, aware they couldn't hear her irritation; she was in the worst shape to help anyone. Though she could admit that she needed a distraction. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not ready to help anyone. I'd only make things worse for them.

You misunderstand, Umaroth stated. This dragon has been without a rider for some time and is lost without them. Please, only you can empathise with him and save him from himself.

#inheritance cycle #eragon #shruikan's rider #sr #yay new story!#totally wasn't gonna be part of my original fanfic #delighted to start this #shruikan deserved better

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gratefulpretender · 5 years

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The Valaraug

Chapter 1

He padded silently through the trees as I chased after him, my footsteps beating in comparison, in the too quiet forest. I strained to see him through the fog as he weaved through the trees with ease, his hair flowing behind him. He stopped and smiled teasingly, as if to make sure I was still chasing, before swinging around the next tree. He moved so swiftly it was almost impossible to keep up. I no longer knew where we were or what direction we were headed just that I needed to catch him. I broke through the trees and stopped in my tracks, it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. We were in a clearing the water had cut into the trees with just one path leading through, I found him there. He settled under a stand-alone tree in the middle of the path. It’s pale bark contrasted sharply with the dark pool of water created by its large canopy. In the darkness I could just see the silhouette of him looking up into the branched, I faintly wondered what was up there, but I was enchanted by the tree. I placed my hand on the ash colored bark and felt it pulse under my fingertips, like a drumming heartbeat. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me, then I felt the warmth as his hand as it encircled mine. He lay my palm on his chest, the soft thrumming heartbeat was in sync with the drumming of the tree. He brushed his hand across my cheek, the skin was rough and calloused from work but his touch was as gentle as a breath. I looked up into his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, I’d finally caught him.

My eyes slammed open, the blaring of my alarm clock throwing me into consciousness with force. Why did it feel like I knew him so well. My body felt warm and was slow to get up. I felt my heart racing, probably from the suddenness of my alarm clock, as I swung my feet over the side of the bed. I wish I could remember my dreams but no matter how hard I tried I never could, it faded deeper into the dark waters of my memory until I could no longer see it at all. My tattered sneakers rested in their place beside my nightstand. I slipped them on, finding comfort in their familiar shape. My clothes litter the floor in a way that to anyone else looked like a total mess. I grabbed my sweatpants out of the corner and an old orange T-shirt I got from summer camp a couple years ago.

I took a deep breath of the fresh northern air as I stepped off my porch, it’s only a few feet from there to my normal path. The familiar dark emerald wall of trees flashed by me as a ran my trail through the forest. It was quiet, nothing but the birds and the soft tap of my shoes hitting dirt. I find it beautiful this early in the morning, the sun hasn’t yet cracked the surface of the sky and everything is bathed in a gray light. I lept over tree roots that had twisted their way onto the beaten path that over the years I have learned my way around. I have been coming out here ever since I was a kid, I’ve always felt at home out here; a sense of peace.

I bounded into the yard and through our ugly yellow door, mom thought it would brighten the place up. I could smell the pancakes as soon as I opened the door. Mom stood in the kitchen in her usual bright green and purple striped apron, her long pale blonde hair was tied back with a neon pink scrunchy, I wished for the hundredth time I’d gotten her beautiful hair. “Out running again? You know it’s dangerous out in those wood, people have been hearing wolves.” She turned, I could see the worry in the line of her forehead, though she tried to hide it, with a smirk she said. “At least you’re wearing orange.” She worried too much in my opinion. “Thanks mom.” I hugged her and grabbed some pancakes, I finished them quickly and jogged up stairs for a shower.

I rubbed the fog off my bathroom mirror, it was the first time I’d seen myself today. My hair was a damp mess of long wavy curls and my face had no makeup, mom said with my eyes I don’t need it and she’s right. My eyes are an impossible shade of electric blue, mom loves them and tells me how beautiful I am but most people find it unsettling; I don’t blame them. I’d rather not use makeup to call attention to them if at all possible. I wore my raggedy old jeans, you could see the skin on my knees and thigh from the holes I had worn in them, and a light blue T-shirt. I slipped on my sneakers feeling there comfort once more and grabbed my dad's ring before closing my bedroom door behind me.

It’s just me and mom these days, my dad passed away when I was little; I don't remember anything about him and mom would obviously rather not talk about him. The one thing she did tell me, last year for my birthday, was he had a ring that had his family crest on it, my family crest, and he’d wanted me to have it. It was a beautiful silver ring with a sapphire gem and a star carved on either side, it was obvious it was suppose to go to a son and wouldn’t fit on my to small fingers. So I wear it on a silver chain around my neck, the only thing I have tying me to a family I've never known.

I walked outside to my mom’s old car, it’s white paint was chipped off in some places and the hood had a big dent that was there when we got it. Mom gave it to me when I got my licence because her new job has here working odd hours and she didn't want me walking to school. I threw my heavy bag into the passenger seat, Josh is going to drive himself to school because he has something to do after class today. Normally we ride together, he lives a few miles away just on the edge of town in this super nice gated community, his dad does high end security. We’ve known each other since we were kids, when we were in kindergarten he came up to me on the first day and told me I smelled weird, anyone else might have been offended but he was the first person ever to not say something about my eyes, we’ve been best friends ever since.

I pulled into the parking lot and parked in the only spot I could find next to a motorcycle I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, it was black and said ‘Harley Davidson’ down the tank. I could only see the back of the guy that seemed to be the owner of it. He was tall and lean with olive colored skin, he wore a leather jacket on and the top half of his straight shoulder length black hair was tied back with what looked like a strip of leather. I’d definitely never seen him before. I was pulled out of my train of thought when someone grabbed my arm “Hey Sky.” I knew who it was before I even turned around. I’d probably heard his voice more than my own, deep and gentle, Josh. I turned to look at him and thinking about him when we were kids earlier and seeing him now was completely different. He easily dwarfed me, standing at 5’5” and 6’3”, he was almost a foot taller than me and was probably twice my size. It happened the summer before freshman year, he got insanely tall in the span of a couple months, he reminds me of a bear with all the muscle he’s put on from helping his uncle at his scrap yard. “What were you staring at?” he asked looking half curious and half concerned.

“Nothing. Just spaced out.” I didn’t want to talk about the guy with the motorcycle, I got the feeling Josh would get the wrong idea. I looked over to our normal spot by the stairs and found Natalie, Natalie was a head cheerleader and for some reason made it her life's goal to make my life miserable every chance she got. She was with Chris, Chris was the captain of the football team, and the rest of their clich. I guess she is starting today by taking our place in the courtyard, as long as she doesn’t see me I don’t care.

I didn’t see the long haired guy again that day, he wasn’t even at lunch. I wasn’t looking for him or anything I was just curious, but he never showed up. The halls were swiftly clearing out as I grabbed my books from my locker, I was walking to my car when Coach Taylor stopped me. “I noticed your name’s not on my roster this year.” she said expectantly, I sighed “Come sit in my office for a second.” Coach Taylor is my neighbor and saw me running in the morning a couple years ago and has been trying to get me to join the track team ever since. “You could be a star if you’d just join the team, not to mention the scholarships you could get.” She doesn’t understand that I don’t want to be a star. Track is a solo event, all eyes on you, that kind of attention is the last thing I need. As she continued to talk the hall turned into a ghost town, I started counting the tiles on the floor of her office.

I think she got the impression that I wasn’t listening because she wrapped up her lecture, by that time the parking lot was completely bare. Mom’s going to wonder where I’ve been, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight. I try to start my car and it makes a horrible grinding noise like forks in a blender. Oh great, and everyone is gone. I was about to get out and check under the hood then I heard a roar of an engine, when looked out my window it was the guy on the motorcycle. He peered through my open window, “Car won’t start?”

Shocked I waited a second to long to answer him. “Yeah... I mean no, it won’t.”

“I could give you a ride if you want.” I looked skeptically at the motorcycle. I had a feeling that if I showed up at home on a motorcycle mom would have a heart attack. He smiled broadly. “Come on, I won’t bite.” Something about his smile reassured me that it would be okay

“Okay.” I agreed, worry starting to sink back in as I climbed on the bike.

My bag thudded heavily on the small of my back, it was the only familiar thing in this scene. My fists were tightly wound into his shirt, I could feel his heartbeat as the wind blew my hair around wildly. He said something that sounded like another apology for not having a helmet but the wind whipped it away. Banking around a turn I grabbed onto him tightly, burying my face in his shoulders, he smelled like the ocean, salty but not in a bad way. I felt his muscles contract when he chuckle and my face immediately turned red, I pushed myself away from him but clung back to him almost immediately as we made another corner

“Thanks for the ride.” I said my face still burning as a got off the bike.

“No problem, I’ll try and have a helmet for you next time.”

“Next tim-?” Mom cut me off with “There you are, I was worried sick.”

“See you tomorrow.” He said as he kicked his bike back on and headed back down my rode.

“Who was that?” Mom asked.

“I’m not sure.”

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