august rush ficlet.
I wrote this for comment_fic the other day and forgot to post it here, whoops. August Rush--prompt was "August/Hope, music speaks for itself". 430 words.
-
They stay in New York.
Louis offers Chicago, but it's not an option even when it's yet to leave the tip of his tongue.
Mr. Jeffries, that wonder of a man, puts Evan's friend Arthur with a family in Iowa. They even visit sometimes.
Lyla can't believe her luck, their luck, but neither can she wrap her head around almost twelve years of counting, so she leaves it up to chance and focuses on what she's doing now.
On her new family. On teaching at Juilliard.
On giving all the love in the world.
Lyla takes Evan to church sometimes. He plays at mass on occasion, but mostly visits when only Hope is there.
He plays then too, anyway; you could say he spends most of his time in church playing. He says he likes the building, the greatness, the big receptor.
Lyla feels like what he likes is Hope, and seeing her hand beside his on the keys.
It could grow to be something, but she doesn't push it. They're kids. They have forever.
They grow up, as kids do.
He's fourteen and she's twelve, and Hope starts dating a boy, an altar boy of some sort, and Evan acts like he's fine, but he eats less than he would if he were. He's sixteen and she's fourteen, and Hope's second cousin gets married, and she asks Evan to go with her as friends, and Evan comes back looking dazed.
"Hope loved the sonata," he says, and quickly corrects himself, "I mean, not just Hope. The bride and groom loved the sonata too. They really loved it."
Louis throws Lyla a look, and Lyla shrugs knowingly as Evan rushes up to his room.
"So what's our position on him dating?" asks Louis.
"Unavoidable, isn't it?" Lyla says. "Might as well be someone he knows how to find."
He's eighteen and she's sixteen, and Lyla and Louis get married-finally get married-and Evan holds out his hand for Hope and takes her out to the dancefloor, and Lyla notices him staring at the way his hand fits in with Hope's, dimples flashing like a million lights.
Lyla smiles, and Louis presses her close.
"We're okay now, aren't we?" she says.
"If this were only okay, I'd be dead," Louis remarks. "This is wonderful."
They kiss, and Lyla wants this to end, wants to go up to the roof and possibly get pregnant again.
Evan takes the stage.
Hope looks at him lovingly, like she's inordinately proud of him.
Honestly, they all are.
He plays right back at them.
-
They stay in New York.
Louis offers Chicago, but it's not an option even when it's yet to leave the tip of his tongue.
Mr. Jeffries, that wonder of a man, puts Evan's friend Arthur with a family in Iowa. They even visit sometimes.
Lyla can't believe her luck, their luck, but neither can she wrap her head around almost twelve years of counting, so she leaves it up to chance and focuses on what she's doing now.
On her new family. On teaching at Juilliard.
On giving all the love in the world.
Lyla takes Evan to church sometimes. He plays at mass on occasion, but mostly visits when only Hope is there.
He plays then too, anyway; you could say he spends most of his time in church playing. He says he likes the building, the greatness, the big receptor.
Lyla feels like what he likes is Hope, and seeing her hand beside his on the keys.
It could grow to be something, but she doesn't push it. They're kids. They have forever.
They grow up, as kids do.
He's fourteen and she's twelve, and Hope starts dating a boy, an altar boy of some sort, and Evan acts like he's fine, but he eats less than he would if he were. He's sixteen and she's fourteen, and Hope's second cousin gets married, and she asks Evan to go with her as friends, and Evan comes back looking dazed.
"Hope loved the sonata," he says, and quickly corrects himself, "I mean, not just Hope. The bride and groom loved the sonata too. They really loved it."
Louis throws Lyla a look, and Lyla shrugs knowingly as Evan rushes up to his room.
"So what's our position on him dating?" asks Louis.
"Unavoidable, isn't it?" Lyla says. "Might as well be someone he knows how to find."
He's eighteen and she's sixteen, and Lyla and Louis get married-finally get married-and Evan holds out his hand for Hope and takes her out to the dancefloor, and Lyla notices him staring at the way his hand fits in with Hope's, dimples flashing like a million lights.
Lyla smiles, and Louis presses her close.
"We're okay now, aren't we?" she says.
"If this were only okay, I'd be dead," Louis remarks. "This is wonderful."
They kiss, and Lyla wants this to end, wants to go up to the roof and possibly get pregnant again.
Evan takes the stage.
Hope looks at him lovingly, like she's inordinately proud of him.
Honestly, they all are.
He plays right back at them.