𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗜 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗜𝗘 | the boys

i. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

~𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩 '𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚~

Her eyes were just like mine - one slightly greener than the other. She lived up to her name. Utter chaos. Rowan Avery Fields certainly had a nice ring to it, like child raised among trees, not buildings. There were no more quiet dinners or laying in the dark, trying to read. Of course I still read, but afterwards it was out loud. I wanted the words to filter in as soon as possible. My thoughts and fascinations were interrupted by the jarring clang of metal against wooden planks. Like ice in my ears.

"You okay down there? Princess hasn't crawled down the garden again, has she?" Dad called.

I raised my head for a moment in utter confusion, before realising I'd caught myself just staring at her again. I got told I stared at people quite a lot - but I was just thinking, not trying to be rude. Rowan looked like a painting to me - with her snowy skin and the beginnings of ebony forming on her precious little head.

"Did you have to use my tree?" I complained to the square propped up between the thickest branches.

Dad's face peeked over the edge, it was so high up I could hardly make out whether he'd decided to shave that day or not. Most likely the latter. Mom always complained about it. "It's not your tree, son, it's Mother Nature's!"

"Well, why didn't you ask her?"

He just chuckled at me, went back to jamming nails into the gentle giant. I couldn't think of a more mocking gesture - like forcing corpses upon their living brothers and sisters. I let out a sigh into the nippy lunchtime air. The skies were bright, but not sunny. The golden glow couldn't quite burst through the clouds that afternoon. Our bare feet had originally rested upon this fleecy tartan picnic blanket, but I had ended up running back across the large garden to give it to Mom, who was sitting outside the back door, sipping from her favourite mug.

Every gurgle and playful babble from her small lips made a flutter rise in my chest. I also thought it was exceptionally sweet that her own voice seemed to surprise her sometimes. She would let out a giggle and widen her eyes, occasionally looking around to see who made the noise. I was still waiting for her first reaction to snow.

I arched my back over my crossed legs, holding up my head in my hands as I watched her contently picking at the grass. "You're a funny one, Princess Ro."

"Tee!" She slurred, looking up at me as her hands turned limp against the ground.

"What did you say?" I narrowed my eyes, leaning closer and stretching my cramped legs out behind me. I followed her innocent gaze to the stairs planted just outside the kitchen doors. Despite them being made out of glass, I could hardly make out the table inside. We were so far away that if I shut one eye, I could fit Mom between my fingertips. "That's Momma." I said softly.

"Tee!" Rowan exclaimed once more, pressing her tiny fingers against my cheek. I froze as her skin left mine, my limbs turned rigid.

"DAD!" I almost screamed, careful not to upset her.

"What is it?!" He replied.

"Rowan's talking!" I clamoured.

"SHE WHAT?!"