Owen

I met Owen when I was eight.

He stood near an acacia tree, clutching the string of a big red balloon. Being the annoying little me, I got envious of the balloon. So I went up to him after ensuring I had enough coins in my pocket. 

"Where did you get a balloon?" I demanded, pointing at him. He blinked uncertainly, his brown orbs fixed on me.

"There" was all he said. With his free hand, he pointed to the right part of the park where a celebration was taking place. Balloons were all over the place, three on each of the numerous tables seating several guests. My eyes gleamed almost instantly.

"But how?" I asked, suddenly realizing that there would be tons of adults crowded around the place, making it impossible for me to snatch a balloon.

He shrugged, then returned to his slouched posture. "I'll get one for you," he said simply, already walking towards the event.

His blue polo shirt looked too big for him with his back arched like that. As he stepped slowly into the hands of the waiting adults, I gulped. Guilt was already coursing through my veins.

"Wait!" I tugged at his shirt and he turned to look at me. "You'd get in trouble. Never mind the balloon."

I thought he'd shrug again, but instead, he smiled. For an unknown reason, my eyes stayed glued to his curved lips. He looked cute when he smiled. "I knew you'd say that. Don't worry, I won't."

This statement puzzled me. With an eyebrow raised, I inquired, "Are you one of the guests?"

He shook his head fervently. "I'm the birthday celebrant. I just turned ten."

My eyes widened as total realization stepped in. "O-Oh, I'm sorry. Never mind the balloon, really. Uh, happy birthday."

"Thanks," he said, his smile fading. "Can you wait a sec?"

I was about to tell him that my Mom was already calling for me, but he was gone in an instant, dashing towards the tables. Blushing in embarrassment, I watched as he talked to a tall woman wearing a fitted skirt. The woman, seeing him pointing to me, laughed and untied one of the red balloons. He nodded appreciatively, then made his way back to me.

He looked pretty sweaty when he got back due to all the running, adding to my guilt. "Here," he said, then started taking deep breaths afterwards.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, as I tied the balloon's string to my hand. "It's your birthday but you got tired just because of this."

A trace of a smile appeared once more on his lips. "Don't worry about it. Can I ask for a gift though?"

I was about to shake my head, but I chose not to. "What is it?"

He stared at my frilly pink dress, frowning. I could tell he was hesitating, but he still spoke after a few seconds. "I've never held a girl's hand before."

This caused me to frown too. "Cooties?"

"No, I've never understood cooties. I just ... I just want to hold a girl's hand. That's all," he said defensively, waving his free hand to make a point.

My Mom would be wondering where I've been, since I only told her I'd go buy a balloon, but I paid no attention. This stranger here had shown me an act of kindness, and I was really grateful, only I wasn't sure how to express it in words. "Here," I said, giving him my right hand. "But just for a minute."

He took it willingly, carefully intertwining his fingers with mine. His hand was a bit wet, probably from the sweat, so I couldn't really understand why he would want to hold hands with someone. We just stood there, near the acacia tree, with intertwined hands. Our free hands held the red balloons which swayed in the summer breeze.

"I'm Owen," he said out of nowhere, still grasping my hand. I didn't know why, but I smiled when I heard his name. Maybe because it closely resembled my father's.

"Amy," I replied, then looked at him from the corner of my eyes. "We're friends from now on, huh?"

Owen's lips curved upwards again. "Yes," he replied, not letting go of my hand.

We counted, then he let go of my hand once he muttered "Sixty" half-heartedly. I had shook my head, laughing. That was clearly over a minute, but I didn't care. I didn't have a boy friend before due to that 'cooties' thing, so I was just enjoying his company.

"We'd meet again, right?" he asked afterwards, turning his back to me so that he was facing his birthday party.

"Of course," I replied, smiling.

"And we'd still be friends?" Owen looked back at me again, his eyes twinkling slightly. Maybe it's because of the sunlight, but I thought I saw sadness in those eyes.

"Yes. We'd be friends for ever," I said, then bowed. "Happy birthday, and thank you for the balloon."

"Thank you for the happiness," he said.

My eyes widened, making him think he said the wrong thing. He dashed off towards his party, his face the same color as his balloon. I was left there, staring after him, unknowingly smiling ...

I was eight, he was ten. We had no idea what we've told each other back then, but here I am ...

Here I am, seven years later, standing in front of the same acacia tree, reminiscing the day I met Owen. Carved into its trunk is a phrase almost erased by the passing years, but still managed to make me remember. I nod, not recalling myself carving this. That leaves one last option as to who carved it ... Owen.

'Owen and Amy, for ever.'

***

note:

this is unediteeeeeeeeeeed. Uwah. :(( I'm going to edit this ASAP. I just need to get this out of my head. I haven't been able to concentrate on anything after I watched Hotarubi no Mori e, but an anime-esque plot was formed in my mind, so ... here it is. I hope you enjoyed the opening, by the way. this is an ongoing story. :))

Thanks for reading this far! xxx pageturn