RONANCE One Shots

Stars

"C'mon," I say, beckoning her to follow me with a wave of my hand. I'm holding the door open for Nancy as she cautiously steps forward. "Are you sure we're allowed in here?" she asks, eyeing the building carefully. "Yes! I told you I have special access here. I'll explain more once you get your nervous ass  inside," I say smiling. Nancy glares at me but finally walks through the door. I step in next to her and gently close it behind us. "Okay, what are we doing here? I feel like we're in some sort of spy movie," Nancy says. I shake my head. "You worry too much. And here —" I throw a black bandana at Nancy, which, surprisingly, she catches. " — I want you to put this on," I tell her as she fidgets with the cloth. "You want me to wear this? When it's already dark in here?" she asks, her eyes wide with concern. I nod my head. "Please? For me? It won't be for that long, I promise." Nancy looks up at me, brings the bandana close to her face, and after shutting her eyes, starts to tie it around her head. I grab her hand in mine, run my thumb over her knuckles, and start to lead us upstairs.

Stargazing is one of my favorite activities. For as long as I can remember, before my parents became distant, they would take me all around town at night to show me the stars. My dad would point out certain constellations and tell me their name. When we arrived back home, I would write down that constellation in my special journal, sketch a little picture and turn to the next blank page waiting for tomorrow so I could fill it in. Soon, though, my parents stopped taking me out, stopped showing me the stars, and my pages stopped getting filled. Although the book is tucked into my pocket now, just yesterday it was sitting in the back of my closet collecting dust because I hadn't felt like writing in it. Not since the last night my parents took me out. But I think after tonight with Nancy, as long as we see a constellation I haven't put in my book yet, I'll finally be ready to write in it again.

And besides not feeling like writing in it just recently, I've never felt like showing anyone the book. Not even to my dad. I always felt like no one was the right person, that they'd laugh at me or something. But right now, here with Nancy, I finally feel like I did. She's the someone I'm going to share my hobby with, share the stars with, show my journal to, and I couldn't be more nervous.

-

We finally reach the second story landing and I open up the door in front of us with my free hand. A nervous excited energy bounces around in my stomach. Still holding onto Nancy, I lead her out onto a balcony. The fall air is crisp and cold against my cheeks. Immediately I can feel my face flush as the wind ripples all around us, ruffling my hair. I let go of Nancy's hand, step behind her, and gently take off the bandana. As I tuck the cloth into my jacket pocket, I follow Nancy's eyes around the area. Laid out in front of her is a picnic basket (full of her favorite foods made by yours truly), a picnic blanket, chairs and pillows, a telescope, and one huge sleeping bag. Her mouth slacks open as she turns to face me. "You did this?" she asks. I grab her hand. "Yeah, yesterday," I answer warmly. She inches up on her tiptoes and leans into my face. As she pulls back from kissing my forehead, she smiles. "I don't even know what to say. This is...amazing," she says, releasing my hand and walking over to the picnic blanket. I trail behind her as she sits, perching on her knees. I sit beside her and flip the lid of the basket open. As she peers in, her eyes widen. "This is, like, all my favorite foods," she says in disbelief. I laugh and nod. "I know."

With my left hand I grab out a chocolate covered strawberry. With my other hand, closest to Nancy, I grab her chin in between my index and thumb. Swiping my thumb close to her lip, I then open her mouth, and bring the strawberry closer. Clamping her mouth down on the berry, she stares at me affectionately, not breaking eye contact. I release her chin, and pop the leftover part of the fruit into my own mouth. "Did you make these?" she says, mouth full and chewing. "Yeah. Good, right?" I ask. Nancy swallows and smiles. "Oh yeah," she responds. "Uhm, so wait," Nancy starts after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I look down in her direction and raise my brow. "You said you had some sort of special access here right?" she asks. I nod. "Well, how?" she asks again. One thing about Nancy is that she hates not knowing things. She especially hates asking dumb questions to get unknown answers. I chuckle, getting an annoyed sneer back from Nancy. "I...volunteer here whenever I can. Almost everyday after school. Usually on Saturday, too," I respond. Nancy's look turns soft as she smiles at my response. "That's actually really cool, Rob. I love getting to learn knew things about you." I give her a big smile back, and then lean forward. Inches from Nancy, I meet her eyes. "Tell me something I don't know about you," I say. Nancy hurriedly moves her eyes towards the picnic basket, away from me, as if an answer will be in there. I kiss her neck slowly and urge her on. "I, okay. Uhm -" she starts. "Go on," I tell her gently. "- I love...kissing your forehead?" she says it like a question, raising the last word up in tone. I shake my head and take in a breath. "I know that. Tell me something real, Nance. Something that I really don't know." She breathes in, but doesn't release. "I hate my dad and resent Mike sometimes?" She blurts out fast. Her mouth forms a straight line and her eyes widen like a frantic wild animal as she processes what she just said . "I shouldn't have said that. That-that was too much," she rambles. "Hey, hey! It's alright. Those feelings are okay," I say as I rest my hand on her thigh. "Hell, sometimes I hate my dad! Everyone does at some point, okay? It doesn't make you a bad person." Nancy sniffles and then relaxes, dropping her shoulders. After brief silence, I open my mouth to speak. "So...you really like kissing my forehead, huh?"  Nancy playfully swats my shoulder as she laughs between strained breaths. "Stop. Talking." I throw my hands up. "You said it, not me!"