Fennel

Spots. And dots. Dots and spots. Is there a difference? I'm not sure, but there are a number of them currently obscuring my vision. Black ones and white ones. Not that it makes any sense, since the background is black. Some red. Now, that just spoiled the wonderful monotone atmosphere they had created for me, what a let down. Funny, I could swear these kinds of spots tend to be associated with pain. But there-- oh, oh.. now I feel it. Ow. Pain. Ow.

Light floods my sight as I part my left lid the most miniscule amount I can manage.

Apparently, not enough.

At first, just the dull yellow of what I can only assume are cheap, energy-saving light bulbs.

As if a weaker light bulb's going to save the Earth.

And then, blurry, peach-coloured shapes. Circles. Spheres. Heads. Having had enough of this ridiculous squinting, I open my eyes, the look on my face one of utter confusion as 6 pairs of eyes stare down at me. Only now do I realise my horrible fate: I've got turkey neck. Shit. I try to clear my throat, in order to grasp some kind of control over this awkward situation. Instead, a gurgle. Of course, with my neck like this, of course that would happen.

Bloody

— suddenly, a flash of pink as something is thrust out across the northern sector of my now less impaired vision. "Too pink.." I grumble.

"Shut up! You said you liked it."

High-pitched voice.. Could be one of millions of women. Or a pre-pubescent boy. However, most likely Fennel.

"Besides, you're an idiot."

"Yeah, I got your text. I believe that's how I ended up on the floor."

"Want a hand up?" Fennel asks, ridiculous grin spread across her face.

"Please." I sigh. It takes all of her might to bring me back onto my feet, which is made all the more difficult by the reluctance of my legs to cooperate with her. Having regained my sense in those two short moments between being horizontal and vertical, I pick up the bright yellow sign, with a sort of amusing little diagram of a man who almost looks like he's achieved flight in the moments before hitting the ground. Looking up at the now 4 pairs of concern-riddled eyes, I recite its words of wisdom, coolly and calmly. "Caution: slippery floor." I decide not to toss in a wink at the end. No laughter.

Fair enough

. Some time slips from me, and now I'm nursing a hot cup of coffee, hands clasping it as though it's providing me a will to live, head still throbbing. "How's your head?" Fennel asks, her voice, I note, lightly topped with a dash of concern which is all but smothered by the smirk on her face.

"Painful. Whose idea was it to make floors so hard? I don't like him." I reply as light-heartedly as possible.

"Probably the same guy that cursed this world to never know what it's like to have floors made of jelly" she said. Knowing Fennel, this was not a spontaneous remark, but instead the reiteration of a past thought. She cupped her shocking-pink-but-with-distinct-black-tips fringe and pushed it behind her right ear, the leftmost bangs still falling over her eye, her lips forming a sort of frustrated pout. A frown spoilt this delightful moment as she noticed a horrific mistake on her Sudoku grid and began furiously grinding the paper with her rubber. "Shit" she muttered. "I wrote in biro." I snorted, masking this action with a sip of my coffee as her head shot up, eyes pre-squinted with intent to glare. I returned her glare after swallowing.

"Stop being so anti-social, you anti-social, Sudoku-loving weirdo." I chortle with delight at my witty comment.

"I will the moment you stop being such a gay" she breathes, her pen tracing circles around the paper, somewhat like a vulture, circling its prey.. which, incidentally, seems to reflect Fennel's personality.

Ironic. Or wait, is it? I always get the use of that word wrong. No one can hear my witty comments in here, either.

"Ironic." I remark.

"What is?"

"The way your pen traces circles around the paper, it's sort of like a vulture which, incidentally, is sort of what you are." Happy with this, I lean back to take a victory sip.

"I fell asleep at 'the'." Victory sip: denied. "Also, you're mean."

"Yeah, but you love it."

[Fennel's voice]Oh God I do, and it just makes me so damn hot. [Reverting] If only.

"You do realise I actually wanted to, you know, talk?" I say, with slight desperation.

"Really?" she asked in all honesty, digging her pen into the little dimple on the underside of her chin.

"Well, yeah. Haven't really had a chance to talk to you recently, what with 'Reflections of Mary' basically dominating your life."

"Oh hey, you remembered the name!" she beamed, "and yeah, Abby's been sort of reluctant to continue recently. I mean, I just need photos, they don't take that long." I winced as she conjured up the fond memory of 6 hours in the same, awkward pose, with only her deranged mutterings and "It's for art!" to keep me company. "Speaking of which, how's that er.. golden sculpture woman thingy you're doing?"

"It's coming along nicely. I mean, I may die a premature death what with all the plaster I inhale with every chisel, but it's all for the sake of art, right?" I smile at her little fingers as she rolls them against the table. Her nails probably would be quite nice if they weren't flecked with paint of varying shade of brown.

[Fennel's voice echoes] But brown is such a deep, emotional colour! I love painting with it. [Me] No, Nell. Brown is the colour of poo.

I lean back in my chair, sipping my coffee. The room for a moment is silent as I admire Nell's soft eyes, the gentle mahogany hue occasionally catching the sunlight, giving them a bronze tinge. She looked up at me momentarily, tongue caught in the corner of her mouth between pearly, white teeth, hardly any difference between her now and the little, dirty blond-haired girl who struggled to keep in the lines in her colouring books, mumbling something like "if 6 and 3.. but the 7 means I can't.. oh! And done.", I wasn't really paying attention. She looked at me, confused for a moment before saying, "Well.. you wanted to talk, didn't you?"

"I think I died waiting for you to finish that Sudoku grid." She grinned toothily.

At last, I had her all to myself.

Damn girl is always busy with something.

We spent the next 2 hours or so fiddling with coffee cups, gagging at the cold drink, the world a distant blur of colour and noise as we relived our 13-or-so year old friendship, washes of grey occasionally sweeping over the piercing sunshine, but we didn't notice. "It's really weird not living next to you anymore, you know? I keep expecting you to phone me with promises of some Jerry love and hours of the Sims.", she said, stroking the surface of her coffee with a spoon.

"Please, don't remind me about how much of a loser I used to be."

"Used to be?" she asked, with another cheeky little grin, fluttering her eyelashes in response to my glaring. "I was thinking of changing my hair colour, actually. I mean, I love the pink and all, but it's not as sexy as, say, a really deep sort of scarlet red. What do you think?"

"Well, your hair does look like you dunked your bald head in candy floss."

"Funny, I think that's what you said about it the first time.", she said, whilst twirling a particularly long bang around her index finger, pausing to inspect it before then folding it across her face like a moustache.

"That's not such a good idea", I said, prepping yet another witty joke, "you're manly enough as it is without adding a moustache into the mix." She laughed, playfully punching me in the arm. Mocking pain, I reeled away from her. "Hey!" I exclaimed, rubbing the fist's zone of impact, "now, if you had been a real-sized person, that could've been painful." She pouted.

"I am a real size person, I'm just under average height for a girl, dammit!" she said, throwing a mock-tantrum in the process.

"Yes, but you have to remember, average height for a girl equals tiny compared to a guy." I joked.

"You're not that tall for a guy, you know. 5'10" is pretty short."

"Hey... shut up" was my witty comeback.

Being this witty takes effort and sometimes I just run out of juice.

She leant back, hanging her head over the back of the chair.

Can't help but notice, but... not a lot of cleavage on show today. Pity.

Her rather baggy cardigan concealed her, what I could only assume were, rather ample bosom. Unfortunately, it was difficult to estimate accurately their size since she had a tendency to wear very modest clothing. Odd really, when you think about it; shocking pink hair, bright yellow Converses, bright red jeans and a baggy, light blue cardigan that disguised how buxom she really was. The jeans, however, did accentuate her ass magnificently. Like a ripe little peach. Alas, my current thought train was interrupted by a sudden streak of lightning, followed by a delayed boom.

"Wha--, when did that start?" she asked, her expression one of genuine disappointment.

"Spot on again, Google weather report. Sunshine and temperatures of 24 degrees Celsius throughout the day..." I groaned.

"Do you wanna get back?" she asked, "before it turns torrential out there?"

"Sure, but do you mind if we go back to your dorm? My stuff is all in boxes; I have to clear everything out for Easter."

"But of course, kind sir," she chimed excitedly. We quickly left the café, primarily due to the fact that the owner had gotten quite annoyed at the two customers who had bought 1 cup of coffee each and spent 3 or so hours occupying a table for 4, but also because she hated the rain. We stood beneath the rain shelter for about 10 minutes, enjoying the pre-rain-running procrastination. "I hate getting wet," she groaned.

Perverted thought. Hush, libido.

"My converses are gonna get so soaked!"

"At least you didn't wear your Uggs." At that comment, she slowly turned to me, perfectly raised eyebrow an indication of the imminent sarcastic remark.

"Should you possess such knowledge?" she asked suspiciously, before berating the true nature of my gender, as she so often does.

"Well, look at it this way: I'm a, supposedly, feminine guy, and you're a very masculine girl, together I think we could just about pass for one legitimate 'normal' couple." She punched me in the arm.

Déjà vu?

"I am not manly!"

"Your tiny fists beg to differ." Again, she replied with violence, this time pinching my arm.

"Better?"

"Oww, you have sharp fingers, you know?" her lips curling into a grin once more at this. After 2 or 3 more insults had been thrown, we ventured out into the now torrential rain, arm in arm. Despite her earlier claims, she happily spread the cold, wet joy of every puddle we encountered, until about half way through our journey, at which point the rain was so ridiculously heavy that we could hardly see 20ft ahead of us, she started shivering against my arm. Instantly, the old chivalry kicked in and I offered her my jumper. "I'm fine, really," she pleaded, "I'm a big girl, I don't need you to hold my hand you know, since the--" she was suddenly interrupted by a surprise attack from the cutest little sneeze. I grinned at her, on the verge of comment, arm out-stretched with my jumper.

"Don't even," she said, blinking sporadically as drops of rain trickled down her forehead.

We staggered in through the foyer door gripped by a fit of laughter; I'd slipped. Again. My ass was now painted a lovely shade of brown. I fell to my knees the moment we were out of the rain, one hand braced against the floor, the other cradling my throbbing ass as I half groaned, half laughed in pain. Fennel clutched her chest as she struggled to breathe between gasps of laughter, stumbling into the corner for support. "It's not funny, it hurts!" I yelled mid-laughter. She dragged me up off my feet, away from the confused looks of the much dryer passersby and up the stairs towards her room. It takes a moment for her to find her key, since she is still shaking with laughter. Leaning against the doorframe, I unintentionally get a whiff of her hair; even when damp it smells sweet and sort of creamy, but with this edge that gave your nose a sort of pleasant sting.

That stuff about her being a vulture earlier was utter bollocks, I just like trying to make witty comments. Keeps me on my toes.

Having opened the door, she happily skips in, spinning in a perfect 180 degrees to face me. "You know where the toilet is, might want to clean some of that mud from your elbows," she said, with a toothy smile, "I need to change, so choppy chop." I obeyed, shuffling into the bathroom.

I grab a tissue and clean my elbows, feeling like an 11-year-old kid again who's just tripped in the mud.

Christ it's cold,

I think to myself. I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, taking care not to slip on my wet socks. The remaining light swarms inside the room as I push the door back to reveal an almost-naked Fennel, clad only in her bra and panties, bent over by the window, drying her hair with a dark red towel. For a moment, I stand there, eyebrows furrowed.

No longer that skinny, little, pale kid I used to know.

Her legs are somehow both slender and plump, meeting her curvy little ass at cute little lip. Her panties, however, are perhaps a little too small as the cut into her ass, giving that delicious sort of "bursting" look. To top off my little perving session, she does that thing where she hooks her index fingers beneath the lining of her panties and pulls the fabric out so that it provides a little more coverage. Having perved enough, I clear my throat.

Not a gurgle this time, thank God.

She turns around slowly, embarrassed look spread across her face. "You... just saw me un-wedgie myself, didn't you?"

"Sort of."

"Well, I hope it provided some entertainment at least," she said, clasping her arms around herself as she continued shivering.

"Shouldn't you uh.. put some clothes on? You look cold."

"Do you wear clothes in bed?"

"Unless you count pyjamas, then no."

"Then no, I'm not putting some clothes on," she said, with a little smile, climbing under her quilt. "Isn't it cold in those clothes?"

"Little bit, seeing as someone stole my jumper and left me in this t-shirt."

"Oh stop complaining, you little girl, and get under here with me," she said, patting the bed. I paused, soaking up the moment.

"Yeah alright." I tore off my t-shirt, hopping over to the bed as I tried to liberate my left leg from the extremely soggy jeans, before climbing under the covers with her.

"My God, you take up a lot of space."

"Shut up, I'm not fat." I made a frowny at her.

"Then what's this?" she asked, grabbing my port love handle and jiggling it. I scoffed and reached to grab hers, but she gasped and batted my hand away.

"Don't you dare!" She burst into a fit of giggles as she attempted to grab my hands before they could expose her handles d'amour. After a few minutes of letting her overpower me, we retreated to friendly ground and lay on our sides. The space between us, I noticed, had lessened significantly. "I've just realised that I'm basically naked," she said, all of a sudden. I nodded in agreement. "It's weird," she continued, "I don't feel that awkward around you. I guess those years really cemented my trust in our friendship."

Damn. Friend-zone confirmation.

I propped myself up on an elbow and openly sighed, accidentally. "Is something wrong?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, uh, no, I was just, sort of, agreeing with you." She pondered this for a moment with an audible 'hmm', before flopping onto her back, her chest swaying with the impact. I watched the last of the sunlight paint the sky a rose-orange colour. I'd spent an entire day with her and hardly noticed. I could hear her breathing; soft, light, but oddly shallow, like she was battling with something in her mind. Her breathing paused for a moment, and she turned to me, eyes wrought with, what looked like, concern. "You know, I haven't had a boyfriend in ages."

"Aww Fenn, you know my track record with boyfriends, you don't need to flaunt your past ones in front of me," I said, smiling at her. She laughed, spontaneously snorting at the end.

"What? Shit! I'm sorry, that was creepy. If you want to leave and never see me every again, I'll understand." I laughed, patting her on the head.

"I got used to how disgusting you are a long time ago."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So anyway, what's with the sudden relationship crisis?"

"I dunno.. although, it's not really a crisis. I was just thinking about it. I mean, I like being single. It's feels more free and I don't have any constraints."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, the freedom can't compare at all to the sense of belonging and intimacy, and the.. well, you as a guy might not get this, but knowing that if I'm sad or lonely, scared or anything, I know that I can retreat into that safe, warm embrace of his arms, and have that sense of security that nothing else can bring." Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she finished. I paused for a moment, slightly confused; this was a side I had never seen of Fennel, someone who was much more complex than I had known, she was no longer simply this tomboyish, kooky little girl. Instead, she was a deep, beautifully romantic mind, disguised as the little girl who lived next door to me.

"Why are you telling me this, Fenn?"

"Because I like you, idiot. You like me, don't you? 13 years must have done something for you."

Haha, fuck you, friend-zone.

She punched me playfully in the arm, her face assuming that ridiculous smirk from this morning. She scooched closer to me, covering what little space was left between us. Her hair was still damp, and a ruffled bang fell across her eye in the most convenient way, making her look all the cuter. "You.. do like me, don't you?" she asked again, smirk receding slightly. At that moment, I had never been so lost for words. I tried furiously to find something to adequately describe how I felt.

Fuck it.

I leant in and kissed her.

It was the most romantic thing I could think of.

She seemed not to respond for the first few seconds, which worried me, but then I felt her push against me, felt her body rise as she moved into the kiss. After what felt like far too short a time, we parted silently. Her eyes remained closed, and without opening them she breathed, "Mmm, that's the best kind of yes."

She opened her eyes, gentle and hazel and put her arms around me, wrapping them around my neck. She kissed me again, pulling her body against mine.

Mmm, breasts.

I pressed one hand against the space between her shoulder blades, the other I slid beneath her and placed against the small of her back, using both to press her tighter against me, to which she replied by lifting her right leg and wrapping it around my own. I felt myself adapt to her; she persisted in tilting her head to the right, so I went left, she liked to play 'give and take' with her tongue, so I complied, occasionally wrapping mine around hers, with which her heavy breathing implied approval. After what felt like an age, we parted lips, but remained in the embrace. The last pink hues of daylight made a feeble attempt to brighten the room. The light fell across her face in a soft, pinkish gradient, gentle harmonising with her skin tone, creating this beautiful palette of colour. As beautiful as she was. "Actually, I used to have quite a big crush on you," I blurted out. Her eyes widened with a look of surprise and intrigue.

"Really?" she whispered.

"Really," I whispered back. "I've never really had the courage to admit it to anyone.. or even myself. But.. you make me really happy, Fenn." She swelled with happiness, burying her little head beneath my chin. My heart felt massive in my chest, especially with her so close to it. Unfortunately, my cock shared a similar feeling, and I could feel it already pressing against her stomach. As much as I had wanted to fuck Fennel in the past, this was currently the last thing I wanted; I would've traded the raging hard-on for anything if it meant I could hold her like this for a little longer. Alas, this was not to be. She stirred beneath my embrace, bringing her head out to look at me. "I make you

that

happy, do I?" she said with her trademark grin. I decided to capitalise on the moment.