Snowflakes

It's Good To Be Young

     Allan entered his not-so-clean apartment and took off his jacket and scarf. Pepper was the only thing he could think about. Images of her smiling face flooded his mind as he found that it would be impossible to concentrate on anything else. "I'm hopeless," he said, shamefully.

     He decided to paint her. It was the only thing he was good at, anyway.

     He tried to remember everything about her. Her short, dark hair, her big, brown eyes, encircled by long, soft eyelashes, her petite frame; he went from the clothes she wore to the way she spoke and poured it all into his paintings of her. He had only seen her a few times, and from a bit of a distance, but it all seemed so clear to him. By the end of the night, every canvas he owned was a painting of her. Oh well, he thought with a sigh. I guess I'll just bring these out tomorrow. Maybe someone will want to buy them. He set aside his favorite painting of her, wanting to keep it for himself. "I'm like a stalker. I've only known her for a short time," he reasoned. "But it's like I'm obsessed."

     He sighed in exasperation and turned dark red with shame as he looked at how many paintings he had of her. "What is wrong with me?" he asked himself.

     She was a young girl, with her whole life ahead of her and he was just an unemployed wannabe artist living in a run-down apartment. There was just no way he could... What am I even talking about? It sounds like... 

     He gave the word 'shameful' a new meaning when he stumbled over his cans of paint in his exasperation and embarrassment. Get it together, Allan, he told himself, a billion thoughts running through his mind, all of them revolving around Pepper. 

     Irritated by how idiotic he was being, he decided to take a shower and go to bed. Enough was enough. He would see her again the next day, so why was he so anxious to have her with him right then?

     "Dammit!" he hissed as he sat up from his lying position on his bed too quickly and heard something in his back crack. Now he was angry, and he was never angry.

     Exhausted by his emotional fits, he fell backwards once more and shut his eyes. After a few minutes, he came to the conclusion that sleeping was impossible and got out of bed to get some water, stubbing his toe on his nightstand. He made a few incoherent mumbling noises that sounded a lot like him trying to keep himself from cursing as he hopped around his room on one foot in pain.

     What was wrong with him today?

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     "Pepper, Pepper, Pepper," Ginger shook her head. "You were up late last night talking to that guy again, weren't ya?"

     Pepper was too irritated to say anything, she just glared at the wall. There were dark rings under her eyes and she was stuck in bed with a bad cold.

     "It's too cold outside for ya to be sittin' by the window at night! Whaddaya, crazy?"

     Pepper sneezed in response.

     Ginger sighed. "Did ya manage to find out his name?" she asked.

     Pepper nodded. "It's Allan," she mumbled.

     "Allan, eh? So what's he like? Ginger asked as she poured some cough medicine into a small plastic cup, not really paying attention to what or how much she was giving her. In her opinion, it was always 'The more, the better'.

     Pepper took the thermometer out of her mouth and placed it on the nightstand she shared with Ginger. "He's extremely handsome," she began hoarsely. 

     Here we go, Ginger thought, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

     "He smiles a lot. He's funny, he's nice... But there's something about him that I can't name. It's a little weird..." Pepper trailed off. She tapped her chin in thought.

     Ginger waited for her to continue, checking her temperature. Yup, she sighed inwardly. It's a fever.

     "Oh, well. Anyway, when I talk to him... I dunno, I feel all weird inside... It's like someone let a wild animal loose inside my stomach," she groaned in annoyance when she found that she couldn't give that feeling a name.

     "You mean like butterflies?" Ginger asked, though it was more like a statement than a question. She knew where this was going.

     Pepper gasped. "How did you know?" she asked in pure amazement.

     "Pepper, I hate to be the one to tell you, but it sounds like you're in love," the older girl sighed in disinterest. When she was Pepper's age, she loved talking about boys and crushes, like most teenage girls, but now it was just boring. It was the same thing over and over.

     "Hmmm," Pepper thought. "Love, huh? You think so?" she asked.

     "Yeah, I guess."

     "I dunno... What does love feel like?"

     Ginger wondered how she was to explain it to the naive girl.

     "Well... It's something nice...? And soft.... And fragile, but it makes you happy. It makes you feel all warm inside... Like a cat, I guess, I dunno," Ginger did her best to explain it, but failed miserably.

     "Oh," was all Pepper could say. "Like a cat..."

     "Yes, Pepper, like a cat, now drink your disgusting medicine," Ginger said and rolled her eyes.

     "No way! It's gross!" she shrieked.

     "Look, you gotta drink it if you ever wanna-"

     "No, no, no, I won't do it! I won't, I won't, I won't!"

     "I won't let you talk to this Allan guy unless you get better, and you won't unless you drink this stuff!" Ginger huffed, holding the small plastic cup in front of Pepper's face.

     They had a glaring contest for a few seconds before Pepper slowly and reluctantly took the medicine from Ginger's hands and swallowed it all in one gulp, sticking her tongue out in disgust afterwards.

     Ginger smiled triumphantly and patted her on the head. "There's a good girl."

     Pepper pouted and crossed her arms.

     Ginger danced out of the room. "It's good to be young," she sang with a playful smile. Now, it was Pepper's turn to roll her eyes.

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A/N: Okay, I know, Allan is a total dork, lol. Even though he's 20 years old, he's as inexperienced as Pepper is when it comes to love.

Hope you enjoyed this! I'll be out with another chapter soon because I have no life. ;)

Ciao!