We Have An Emergency

(I won't develop this into a story. It's just a one-shot.)

“When do you leave?”

I looked over at him. He was staring up at the sky, tracing imaginary shapes with his finger.

“Next week.” I whispered.

A hollow laugh ripped from him. His arm dropped, “Next week. Dammit.”

“Shane…”

“I know, Kyle. I know. It’s not you,” he looked over at me, a rueful smile twisting his lips. “It’s just your parents.”

I found myself smiling back at him, except it was more of a bitter grimace. “I’m 16, Shane. You know I wish I could stay here with you.”

“So stay.”

“You’re barely an adult,” I said.

The smile on Shane’s lips turned humoring, amused. “Only three more weeks until I turn 18.”

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Shane,” I said. My attempt at lightening the mood didn’t work. I could still feel the resentment pricking my eyes.

Shane thought different. He poked me in my stomach. Right where it tickled. A squeak escaped my mouth. Followed by a chuckle as my lips curled. Then I yelped as Shane poked me again.

“Stop it!” I hit him.

“Or what?” Shane poked me a third time.

“I’m gonna murder you.” I lifted myself off, slapping him playfully. He responded, holding my hands away from him and lifting himself over me, grinning. I cried out as the hammock swung dangerously.

“Shane!” I said. “The hammock.”

“It’s fine. But you are not.” Shane drew me in his arms, kissing my forehead. “You’re sad.”

The silence filled the night. I avoided his gaze, knowing I would cry if I met his eyes.

“I can’t believe I met you here.” I said, staring up at the stars.

“In a good or bad way?”

I turned my face in his chest, “Bad. Definitely bad.”

“I’ll spend every second with you until you have to go.” Shane promised. I could feel his breath hitch as he said go.

I said nothing more. And neither did he.