JuniperAndJynx

Eventually her gaze wandered to the window.  From where she sat at the bar she could see part of town square through the glass. The streetlamps cast a warm glow on the cobblestone.  Sebastian and Sam stood just outside the saloon. A flicker of light briefly illuminated both their faces as Sebastian lit his lighter. Sam leaned in first, cigarette in his mouth, the small flame dancing in the breeze before Sebastian cupped his hand around it.  For a moment she kept staring out.  “Something interesting out there?” Gus asked casually as he wiped down the counter. 

Sebastian flicked his lighter, the small flame briefly illuminating both their faces. He cupped it against the breeze and took a slow drag, the end of the joint glowing a soft orange in the dark. He exhaled towards the lake, the wind carrying the smoke over the water.  He passed it back without looking. They didn't talk. They just sat there, shoulders almost touching, listening to the sounds around them.  It was stupid how easy it was to sit like this. Like they'd done it a hundred times. Like they could do it a hundred more. 

me after posting a new fic

The two of them stood there, eyes locked. The storm grew heavier around them, pounding against the branches above them. For a moment, neither spoke. The farmer stared at the raindrops racing down Sebastian’s hoodie, and he stared at the ground, cigarette between his fingers. Finally, he broke the silence. “You know… you’re not as boring as I thought you’d be.” The farmer raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” “I guess…” he muttered, but there was the faintest trace of a grin on his face.

some pictures i got in the real life Arcadia Bay

He can still see him— his father, their camping trip last summer, every memory made before and since then. Everything they once had. Everything they can never get back. He holds the flame to the newspaper, and it flares to life with a soft whoosh, catching the paper and dry twigs. The fire starts slow, then crackles louder as it takes.  Sean watches it burn. The fire crackles, curling around the edges of the paper until it burns up every word. He watches it all burn, not just the paper, the sticks, the wood. Everything. His life, his dad, his friends, his room, school. All of it— turning to ash, to smoke, rising up into the trees and disappearing like it was never real.

Me passing my beta reader the most chaotic, typo-infested, inconsistent mess I’ve ever written.

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