˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 10 - INTERPOLATE

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INTERPOLATE

verb - to insert something, especially in music


The snow beneath Clyde's feet crunches as he trudges toward the park. Snow is still gently falling, blowing softly with the breeze. Trees sway and dance and birds fly, swirling loops over the clouds.

Blowing hair from his eyes, Clyde looks at the sky. Silver clouds weave together, stitching a blanket over the sun, leaving the park overcast.

Footsteps running toward him, crunching snow. Clyde whips his head to the side.

"Clyde!" Scott grins, coming to an abrupt halt and standing up straight in front of him.

Clyde giggles, "Hey Scott."

Scott doesn't say anything, face falling and gaze lingering on the floor.

Clyde throws his arms around him and pulls him in. It's warm and fuzzy, and he inhales deeply, lungs filling with sweetness.

Scott wraps his arms around Clyde, letting him rest his head on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." he whispers, lisp softly cutting through his words. Clyde smiles.

"Me too."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." Scott mumbles, grip loosening on Clyde.

He squeezes him tighter, "It's okay. I probably shouldn't have dragged you there."

"No, no, it's... fine." he fiddles with his fingers on Clyde's back, "It's not your fault, dude. I fucked up."

Clyde scrunches his hand in his hair, playing with small, fluffy strands, "It doesn't matter. It's in the past now, huh?"

"As long as you promise to still be my friend."

Clyde frowns, brow furrowing. Why would he ask that? He hopes he hasn't been giving off the wrong impression.

He pulls away and holds Scott by his arms, "Of course we're still friends. No reason not to be."

Scott looks relieved, but still slightly apprehensive. Clyde lets his grip fall, and Scott catches his hands.

"Thank you." he grins, closing his eyes and intertwining their fingers. His hands are warm, and Clyde wishes he could take his mittens off and hold his hands properly.

"Wanna go back to my house? It's too cold out here." Clyde asks. Scott nods, squeezing his fingers.

He lets go of one of his hands and they start walking out of the park. They make small talk for a little bit until comfortable quiet settles over, both listening to birds chirping and watching snow float and fall.

It's not a long walk back to Clyde's house, but he wishes he could hold Scott's hand forever. They swing their arms between them, squeezing each other's fingers every so often.

They break apart when Clyde has to unlock his front door, and he gestures for Scott to come in.

"My dad's home, but he's busy so he probably won't annoy us." Clyde says, shutting the front door and leading the way down the hall.

Scott stops behind him, "Who's this?" he asks, pointing at a photo on the wall.

Clyde turns, looking at the photo, "That's me, my sister and my dad from a couple of years ago." the three of them are grinning widely at the camera, arms around each other. They're holding matching brightly coloured juice with little umbrellas.

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