SYMPHONY; dead poet society one-shots

duck pond: charlie dalton

It was never the same situation: coming to the duck pond.

Over the years it became a sacred place for you and Charlie where only secret things were shared. Every time it was mentioned someone was in trouble, or desperate, or both. But this trip to the pond, walking side by side to each other felt entirely different.

The breeze went by swiftly, making the birds hum in joy. The grass was greener than  paint and Charlie walked a little faster than usual with the picnic blanket he swore to use every time the pond was part of a plan. It was a small brown square with a flannel patterned top which you two had made the summer before junior high to commemorate a new stage of life. 

Nowadays, the poor picnic basket looked like it was on its last stage of life.

But, you two walked anyway. Or, in Charlie's case, speed walked to the semi-dry spot that was a front view to the ducks making file lines. You laughed as he spread the blanket and scurried to get the opposite side he was holding. "I have a feeling we're going to be here the entire night."

"And you...are entirely right," He chuckled as he kneeled down and flattened in a way that wouldn't tint the tacky blanket with grass stains. Setting the picnic basket in the middle, he began to take off his loafers and set to a side. You did the same and sat down. "To be honest, so many things have been going on. I could barely keep my head on straight."

"That must be horrible. It must be horrible having to be the clown of the friend group and being defeated by...what is it this time?"

Charlie took a seat quietly, immediately opening the basket to fetch the bread bag he had prepared. You watched intently, he was the sort of person who's silence made the hairs on ones arms rise. The ducks waddled in his direction, a small smile came across his face before disappearing once again. "Just life, what else comes after this."

He threw a few pieces at the ducks, shaking his head at his own confession. 

"Do you just want to talk the entire time?"

"Please," he looked at you while opening the bag even more for you to reach in. 

A breeze hit your back in an Erie way but you chose to ignore it. 

"I mean, everything was great. That's how it's supposed to be. You read all these books about true love and happiness and you mimic what you see. At least that's what I've been doing since I learned I could. But then I realized...mimicking isn't a reality. What's the difference of feeling you have true love and happiness if it isn't real opposed to not feeling love at all and just feeling neutral with everything else?" 

You didn't answer. You knew he wouldn't want you to until he was done.

"I think, 'college is right around the corner. Everything in my life should be perfect right about now'. It's all just bullshit really. I mean, true love and happiness you feel it temporarily. It's not a forever, it's not a 'I have this right now and it's going to remain this way'. No. It's really not, it a 'I have this right now and I'll do everything in my power to keep it this way even though deep inside I know I can't'. That's all it is."

You coat your lips in thought with a shear layer of saliva, which will dry much quicker than chapstick. It makes you think your lips might crack. You look down. A duck is munching the hem of your pants.

"College is right around the corner and I still can't find the right words to say," he let the bag fall down to the blanket and the ducks hurried for the pieces of bread. You could hear them fighting and quacking. 

"I think I could handle feeling neutral about everything else."

You bit the inside of your cheek waiting for anything else to fall from his lips but nothing did.

"You shouldn't feel neutral about anything."

"Oh but I do. The ticking hours of the day. The moon winking at me at night. The way my hand swishes with cursive L's and M's. That whole routine of school, and going to bed. It's all just neutral. I just don't feel it. I just don't yearn it. And I feel like I should. I mean, I'm only 16 and I feel absolute emptiness. I'm missing love, I'm missing happiness. I just can't find the missing sentences in between that make life make sense. That is what's killing me. No true love in ticking hours, or  moons, or the cursive writing to my lulls. No true love to school, or my bed. Nothing. It's all just nothing. And all I think about is how many nights I'll see the moon before my clock malfunctions."

"I'm scared I'll love you forever and my part of life with you will fade into oblivion. Sometimes I wish my clock stops so I'm here with you."