A/N: This is for you. For everyone who reads my stories. But especially for those who review. :P Special shout-outs to TeddyLuver, Zillionz, lolz3, and Channy4Ever343 for reviewing, without fail, everything I write without me having to beg you. :D Also thanks to Your Biggest Fan. You know who you are…and this was really inspired by you. Thanks a million for your kind review.
Hanging By A Moment
I'm desperate for changing
Starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
I'm chasing after you
He's six years old and chasing after a girl for the very first time.
As he runs across the grassy field, tripping once or twice on hidden clumps of dirt, he yells, calling out for her to come back.
She turns her head, her hair tangled by the wind and her eyes bright with happiness as she laughs at him, running all the while.
There is a moment when their eyes meet and an intangible something passes between them, though neither of them know what it is.
Then just like that, the wind billows, lifting the edge of her flowered summer dress and pulling the kite higher into the sky than ever before.
String unravels in her hands until all they can see is a splotch of red in the sky, hovering over them and anchored only by the girl in front of him.
"Don't let go!" he tells her, shouting to be heard over the wind. "Hold on tight!"
Her eyes travel from his face to her hand, the little fingers grasping onto a mere handful of string.
A smile spreads across her face, and he knows what she intends to do.
"Don't - !"
But it's too late.
She opens her palm to the sky and lets the kite escape into the heavens.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because it needed to be set free," she replies simply, the wind swirling around her.
And without another word, she dashes away, her quick legs leading her away from him and into the open space.
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
He's eight years old and all the other boys he knows say that girls have cooties.
They must be lying, he thinks, though he doesn't tell them so to their faces as they grimace at the thought of going anywhere near a girl.
They would die if they saw him now.
He holds on a little tighter, slightly squeezing her hand in his as they sit on the edge of the tree house, their bare feet dangling in the air.
She leans her head on his shoulder softly, in a worn out way that makes him want to protect her, no matter what the cost.
It's the last day of summer, and with tomorrow comes the beginning of a school year, filled with promise and despair in equal parts.
A monarch butterfly flutters past them, the striking orange and black illuminated by the hazy glow of streetlights.
"I wish it would never end," she whispers, her words barely audible as she breathes them with a sigh.
He presses his lips together silently and nods, choosing not to voice what he's thinking.
"We'll always be friends, right?" She lifts her head off his shoulder and looks up at him, her eyes filled with hope and tinged with a little fear, and it's all he can do to keep from letting girly tears rise in his eyes.
"Yeah," he says in a voice thick with emotion. "Yeah."
Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely incomplete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me now
He's eleven years old and it's his first official boy-girl school dance coming up in a week.
He hasn't asked anyone yet, though almost everyone else he knows has a "date" already.
Almost.
It's a beautiful spring day, with the flower buds beginning to bloom and the sunshine smiling down at them.
She leans back, putting all her weight on the palms of her hands, which are lost somewhere in the long grass behind her.
He swallow uncomfortably as the silence continues, not because it's awkward, but because he can't figure out how to make the words come out of his mouth the way he wants them to.
She closes her eyes slowly, the long lashes resting lightly on her paler skin, perfectly contrasted.
He can't help but stare at her, privately grateful she's unaware of it.
"Are you going to the dance?" she asks, her head tilted toward the sky and her eyes still closed.
"I don't know," he manages to get out, the words slightly strangled.
"Oh." It's a single syllable, and for the life of him, he can't figure out what she means by it. Her eyes and their world of emotion are hidden from him.
So he takes a leap.
"Do you, you know, want to, um, go with me? Maybe? I mean, if you...wanted to go? Not that you have to, I just - "
She slowly blinks her eyes open, and he breaks off abruptly, swallowing once more as the knot in his stomach twists with a painful wrench of anxiety.
"Okay."
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
He's fifteen years old, and he still hasn't kissed a girl.
He doesn't know when he should have, but apparently it ought to have been done by now.
It's October 2nd and the leaves are changing color, the vibrant hues of red and orange tinting them as they drift through the air on a breeze.
She puts her elbows on the kitchen table, her folded hands propping her chin up lazily.
He wonders what it would be like if he kissed her right this minute.
If he just leaned across the table...
Watching her eyes close in anticipation as she watched him draw near...
And brushed his lips against hers.
He falls off his chair as he closes his eyes and imagines it, the chair legs scraping against the floor and a bruise already forming on his elbow and hip.
"Are you okay?" She immediately rushes to his side, taking his hand in hers like the old days when it wasn't looked upon as a sign of something more than friendship.
He looks down at their intertwined fingers for a moment before returning his gaze to her, the worry and concern evident in her eyes. She truly cares.
So he lifts up his head and presses his lips to hers for a moment, his other hand finding her neck and pulling her close for a brief second of bliss.
"Never better."
Behind them, the tree in his backyard loses another brightly colored leaf. It detaches itself and floats down, down, ever so slowly as the air keeps it aloft.
It finally settles on the ground. Where it ought to be.
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you
He's eighteen years old, and the time has come to say goodbye.
The sea of black gowns makes him feel vaguely as if he's at a funeral rather than a ceremony of celebration.
"And so we step into the rest of our lives…"
He turns his head to glance at the girl sitting five rows behind him, miraculously still visible to him even from here.
She looks up at the speaker in rapture, her eyes shining as she absorbs every word.
Her belief that the future holds so much promise is evident, warming his heart and bringing a smile to his face.
"Today is only the beginning."
Today marks the end of seeing her everyday.
He turns back to her once more, and this time, she's looking straight at him.
He tries to convey everything he wants to say with his eyes.
You're my best friend.
I'll miss you.
I lo-
"Congratulations, class of 2011!"
She rises to her feet, clapping and grinning from ear to ear, her eyes re-focused on the speaker.
He throws his graduation cap into the air, a square of black painted against a canvas of blue sky.
There's nothing else to lose
There's nothing else to find
There's nothing in the world
That can change my mind
He's twenty-one years old, and it's his first Christmas at his own place.
For old times' sake, he has a plastic tree in the corner of his apartment, a few lonely ornaments weighing down its artificial green branches.
Presents wrapped in cardboard boxes from the United States Postal Service are scattered across the floor, still unopened.
Is it wrong to not be in the mood for Christmas?
A knock sounds on the door, and he doesn't budge from where he sits on his leather recliner, sipping hot chocolate and closing his eyes.
"It's open," he calls out resignedly, expecting another box containing another sweater from another aunt he can't remember.
"Hey." His eyes flash open at the sound of her voice, carrying softly through the entire apartment.
She steps into the foyer somewhat timidly, slipping off her black heels and hanging her purse on the coat rack.
Her crimson sweater and black skirt are simple yet festive, and he immediately wishes he were wearing something other than the boxers and T-shirt he wore to sleep last night, somewhat covered by a bathrobe.
"It's been awhile," he finally says, setting down his drink and standing up, self-consciously running a hand through his still messy hair.
"It has been." She looks at him the way she always had, with eyes that seem to read his soul without even trying.
"I have a present for you," he says awkwardly, walking over to the pitiful representation of a tree in the corner and taking the only gift actually placed beneath it.
She stares at it for a moment when he hands it to her, seemingly feeling guilty. "But I don't have anything for you in return."
He reaches for her hand and folds her fingers up around the present, gently forcing her to take it. "But you do."
She looks up at him with inquisitive eyes, and he holds out his arms, welcoming holiday cheer and the first time he's seen her in more than three years.
She rushes into them, burying her face in that one part of his chest that has always felt just right, and suddenly he's ten years old again with his first real crush.
"Merry Christmas."
There is nothing else
There is nothing else
There is nothing else
He's twenty-five years old and he's constantly seething with jealousy.
As per usual, she opens the door and walks in, floating on air, some time past midnight.
The lights turn on as she flicks the switch, a pool of light flooding the crack between the door to his bedroom and the floor.
He hears her walk past his room to brush her teeth and wipe the makeup off her face, humming all the while with happiness.
Sometimes he really, really wants to kill that guy.
But then there are moments like these, when he can sense how content she is, and he couldn't possibly take that away from her.
His door creaks as she opens it, her head peeking inside at him.
"Are you still up?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turns on the light in here too, briefly blinding him.
"Yes," he says unnecessarily, scooting over to leave space for her to sit on his bed. "So...how did it go?"
She bites her lip in anticipation, still standing.
"I think I'm in love," she blurts out, before hopping onto the bed and lying down next to him.
He chokes, sending him into a coughing fit as his heart sears with pain.
"Are you - are you sure? Really?" he manages to get out, still coughing.
"Haven't you ever been in love?" She rests her head on his chest, just above his racing heart. "You just know."
"Yeah. I know." He strokes her hair with his hand, gently pulling through the tangles and relishing the silky feel of it.
They fall asleep like that, the two of them curled up against one another.
Neither of them mention how right it feels.
I'm desperate for changing
I'm starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
I'm chasing after you
He's twenty-six years old and he's never felt so desperate in his life.
There's a note crumpled in his pocket. The handwriting is messy, but the signature is one he loves more than he can say.
It's the rest of the note that breaks his heart.
So he's racing through the airport, his heart pounding fiercely and his shoes squeaking and sliding against the tiled floor.
"Now boarding flight 67 to Wisconsin."
As he pushes himself to run faster, tripping once or twice in his haste, he yells, calling out her name and hoping she'll hear him.
And finally, he sees her.
Her hair falls into her face, obscuring her eyes as she reaches for her purse on the seat next to her. Every movement of her body is slow and deliberate, the purpose visible in her face as she steps into the line.
"Wait!" In a busy airport, his out of breath exclamation is drowned out, and no one turns their head in surprise.
Except her.
Her eyes flicker up to meet his, and she sets her mouth into a firm line.
"I'm going home."
"Fine," he agrees, pulling his boarding pass out of his back pocket. "Then I am too."
"There's nothing you can do. I'm going back to heal a broken heart." She swallows, the pain of it still fresh.
"I know. But I can help you. I'll help you forget him, and soon you won't even remember his name," he argues.
"You can't always be the world's best friend." She takes a step back, toward the diminishing line of people boarding, and he grabs her hand to keep her from retreating any further.
He steps forward and presses her farewell note into her hand, shaking his head. "I don't want to be your best friend."
He cups her face in his hands gently, tenderly wiping away a tear that has slipped down her cheek.
"Then what?" she whispers, the tears pooling in her beautiful eyes.
"I'm in love with you."
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
He's twenty-eight years old and he's the luckiest guy on the planet.
Many people may have said it before him, but there's simply no doubt that he required far more luck than they did - and he got it, too.
He straightens his jacket, tugging at the crisp black fabric until it hangs perfectly on his frame.
A pink rose just beginning to bloom is pinned onto his lapel, its beauty just beginning to burst.
The building is filled with hushed whispers and people smiling in delight that it has ended this way, after so many years.
But it's only just the beginning.
The door at the opposite end opens, and grand music begins to play.
His niece, an adorable girl only four years old all dressed up in layers of soft pink carefully tosses rose petals here and there.
Beside her is her best friend, her brother, only a year older and carrying a pillow with two rings on top with all the pride he can muster.
The maid of honor is next, as some whisper discreetly that it's odd there are no bridesmaids, considering how many friends she has.
But everyone has always known that her true best friend is the one waiting for her in his black jacket.
A gasp issues throughout the church as she steps onto the aisle, her white dress trailing behind her.
The veil does nothing to hide the sparkle in her eye as she looks at the groom, her hair twisted up elegantly and a bouquet of blushing roses in her hands.
He reaches out to take her hand when she reaches him, the feel of her fingers clasped in his as natural as breathing.
They smile at one another, beginning a new chapter of their lives.
"Dearly beloved…"
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you
He's thirty-five years old, and life is simply beautiful.
His wife slips her hand in his as they look out the window, watching the two girls play in the backyard.
"They're beautiful," she whispers, leaning her head on his shoulder softly.
"Just like their mother." He smirks as she laughs for a moment at his flattery.
"And their father, of course."
"Of course."
He smiles as the girl with blond ringlets and laughing brown eyes takes her sister's hands and whirls the two of them around.
"Abbie! Teddy! Be careful!" warns his wife, opening the screen door.
"We are!" Abbie giggles, spinning her younger sister once more.
"Abbieeeee!" squeals Teddy, her long brown hair catching in the wind and swirling like that of a girl from years ago.
The two girls collapse on the grass after a minute, dizzy from spinning and laughing.
"Do you think they're alright?" She reaches a hand out to help them, but he holds her back, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Don't worry. They're fine."
He presses his lips to her cheek, cherishing the perfect moment.
Just hanging by a moment
Hanging by a moment
Hanging by a moment
Hanging by a moment here with you
A/N: The song is "Hanging by a Moment," by Lifehouse, and the girls Abbie and Teddy are based on my dear friends by the same names. xP Love you two.
Review if you want to. ;) I've given up. :P Hope you liked it.