rpf: no need for crossed dates
no need for crossed dates
katy, kris, charles b (kris/katy)
pg-13
a few plane trips and some bus rides later, cape town becomes the distance that she needs to narrow. 1,845 words.
notes: for yuppielawyer (why do i keep writing your prompts?) and hotttpockets' fix exchange. her prompt is: kris and katy on their mission trip to south africa--this trip is when they realize they want to spend the rest of their lives together. include this moment (see below for the picture).
special thanks to joannacullen for informing me about Table Mountain :)
Charles hates her. He always does.
It’s not that he hates, hates her; no. He just dislikes her enough to elusively maintain distance; he would interact willingly but always let out a stock of possessive aggressive jokes when the right time should come.
And he certainly despises her enough to constantly drag Kris away from her.
The truth is, Charles is jealous of Katy-and hating himself for it.
Because he knows very well that he has no one to blame. That it’s not her fault that she, and not he, was the one spending a fourth grade with Kris. That she was the one sharing a high school, or an orchestra tour bus amongst many others. That her existence precedes his.
It’s just that Charles was there when Katy wasn’t. A start is never easy and when some 19-year-old Arkansan aspiring musician (hypothetically speaking) is doing it alone in an adrenaline-fused college dorm, failing to be a professional in something he never even believes in… Well, he kinda regrets the decisions he’s made, especially the one that makes him alone in the first place. Then, he kinda needs someone else to share anxieties with; someone who, when he looks at his class schedule through gritted teeth, would pat him in the back and say, “Man, we gotta sit next to each other at the final!”
Back then, Kris had Charles. He was there when Kris curled up in the corner of his bed with his guitar, trying to be melancholy about “Not getting anywhere.” Or about “That Katy girl,” a subject that they seemed to keep falling back into. And then later about “That adulterous wench” (his words; not Kris’). Then that one about the moon.
When Kris came up with a petite blonde at the end of their freshman year, introducing her as that Katy girl, Charles shook her hand so earnestly that he was afraid he was going to break her arms. It was when Kris started making long distance calls just to ask her favor for a paper he was procrastinating about that Charles began telling the jokes. By the time Katy joined their Chi Alpha and signed up for the South African project with them, Charles had hated her already-and hated himself in the process.
It wasn’t until their pastor read them the rules that he started laughing out loud again. Because there it was, written on the photocopied paper, that an interaction between a boy and a girl should be limited in any way possible-interpret it the way you want. Charles, though, took it as a sign; a justification he most certainly needed.
A few months before they left, he would pop up unexpectedly everytime Katy paid a visit, or ask something distracting to Kris when he was on the phone with her. But there was always a kiss, a touch, a “Call you again later” and Katy would drive to him again, Kris would dial her number every night. Charles would be there too, sure. The thing is, it didn’t matter because they were still home.
But a few plane trips and some bus rides later, Cape Town was no longer an idea, a plan, a map and whatnot. It became the children, the songs, the prayer and the distance that started to dawn on them. And Charles was counting his blessings. He would tackle hug Kris whenever they met, making sure Katy saw it all the while-from afar. He would interrupt their hurried conversation, proclaiming himself “the third person in the relationship.” He would wink at Katy and say, “You know I love him like that,” jokingly calling Kris his “straight gay boyfriend.”
Meanwhile, Katy just laughed.
But it’s break time all of a sudden. And then Table Mountain comes into view.
The one day trip to the mountain is the least that the staff can do to show their gratitude. Take it as an exchange for the non-existent salary for the students. And here, Katy hits pay dirt.
She likes to think it’s God’s work that the cableway car that carries them to the top of the mountain should be able to hold only 65 passengers. Or that Charles is person number 66.
Charles pouts playfully when Kris and the other boys tease him from the cablecar that starts moving, leaving him to stand on the edge of the waiting lane. Katy, too, watches him from behind one of the visored windows. The left end of her lips curl when she loses him in the distance; nothing but a dot in a sea of rocks.
She turns to look at Kris at the opposite end of the vehicle, staring outside with watchful eyes. Katy snickers. Nature boy! She remembers calling him that too, and being replied by a song instead. Still, yes; it’s always been a part of him, nature. Along with God, his family, his guitar, his voice. She’d love to think that he’s thrown her name somewhere in the list.
Katy bites her lip then, wary all of a sudden. But, God! Perhaps there’s a reason why she’s here and he’s there and Charles is not.
Meanwhile, his mouth twitches a little, like he’s smiling. Like he knows she’s watching him. Like he knows.
And maybe he does. Because as soon as they reach their destination and the cablecar stops with a gentle jolt, he just stands there at the station’s doorway, almost blocking everybody’s way. Like he’s waiting. The other boys don’t even notice him, scurrying over to the restaurant next to the station instead. Katy pauses beside him, patiently waiting for other people to pass. And when they’re all gone and the car whirs behind her, slowly descending to pick up the leftovers-to pick up Charles, she calls out.
“Hey.”
Kris flashes a smile as he looks back at her. “Hey,” he says.
She grins back at him, asking, “Wanna take a walk?”
He purses his lips, shrugging all the while. But then the smile returns, reaching his eyes as he replies her. “Sure.”
Kris leads their way then, slightly jogging along the walking trails. The trails follow a nature-built, rocky, yet safe path around the mountain. It’s wide enough to allow a group of Japanese tourists to stop and take pictures, while the students walk pass them in honest awe. But it’s certainly close to the edge of the cliff enough to allure visitors to stretch out their necks and take a peek at what’s underneath.
Katy follows closely behind Kris, trying to remember his steps. He seems to change his course a lot, quickly maneuvering his feet elsewhere when he saw too many people occupying the spot he’s been eyeing. More than once does she bump against his back and almost lose her balance. He will turn around and grin sheepishly; “Sorry.” But he doesn’t hold her hand unless she signals him to, and she rarely does it. Katy O’Connell can find her own way around; thank you very much! And he knows this-knows her so well. The one time she wants his help, he smirks and mumbles, “Crappy cheerleader.” She rambles in return, teasing about his sense of direction, or the lack thereof.
Funnily enough, as soon as the words leave her mouth, he stops. Katy looks around and finds them in a remote space. Someone is laughing in the distance, and she thinks she recognizes the voice. Other than that, it’s a series of endlessness; endless sky, rocks, emptiness. They’re here.
She turns back to Kris, already making his way to the edge of the mountain cliff. He proceeds to sit there, feet dangling and swaying back and forth. He clears his throat too; a silent invite for her to join him. She obeys.
Little pebbles fly and fall as she scrapes them off with her shoes. Some of them mar the skin on her palms when she squats and presses the ground for support. Katy puts her feet one by one forward, and it’s not long before she’s properly seated, mirroring Kris’ position.
She dusts the pebbles off her palms. From the corner of her eyes, she watches Kris’ fingers as they curl around his knees.
Katy turns to the view in front of her then. She sighs.
The spot that Kris has picked overlooks the green hills that declines and melts into the wide sea. She’s trying, to no avail, to remember the name too, clustered somewhere in a travel book she’s bought a long time ago. She turns slightly towards Kris, eager to ask him.
But the waves hit the rock somewhere below them and she thinks, next time. There’s, too, a conversation they had yesterday before Charles came and took him away but Kris hums beside her and Katy forgets what she’s going to say.
So she stays quiet, listening to the tunes of Kris’ breath instead. And she falls in love with the sound.
It’s Kris who finally breaks the silence.
He giggles softly. “We should do this again.”
Katy blinks. “Sure,” she prompts. “I’ll just let Pastor Mark know that we’ll be late and I’ll tell the kids I can’t help with their homework.”
Kris laughs at that, throwing his head back as he does so.
The amusement stays when he continues. “No. Not now,” he swallows. “I mean, 50 years from now.”
Katy takes a deep breath. “Deal,” she answers-and smiles.
They sit there for a few more minutes before a click startles them. They turn around and there’s a friend, holding a camera. She giggles too, shouting something like “Gotcha!” and giving out empty threats about showing the picture to Pastor Mark. But Kris and Katy still oblige when she keeps clicking, taking another picture. And another, and another.
“Hi!”
The other voice that greets them is sharp and cold, also sudden enough to catch them off guard. It’s Charles, out of breath and panting but as larger than life as ever. He fixes his eyes at Kris when he asks, “The other guys want to buy some snacks for later. Wanna come?”
Kris shifts beside Katy; his hand brushing her own as he walks towards Charles. She can almost hear the laugh that lingers on his lips.
“Sure,” Kris says.
Charles is already turning his body half-way when Katy calls out to him. “Bye, Charles!”
He pauses to pivot back and meet Katy’s gaze. “Thank you,” he whispers, fists clutching the hem of his t-shirt. And it’s like he’s counting the days before everything is over; before Cape Town becomes a memory and they all graduate or drop out and he no longer can sit beside his best friend at final exams.
Katy watches in silence as he and Kris leave before returning to her friend to take some more pictures. The sea is glinting at the background and she remembers, she never asks Kris what its name is.
But she sighs again. Later, she tells herself. It’s not like she can’t ask him later. Or 50 years from now, for that matter.
End.
katy, kris, charles b (kris/katy)
pg-13
a few plane trips and some bus rides later, cape town becomes the distance that she needs to narrow. 1,845 words.
notes: for yuppielawyer (why do i keep writing your prompts?) and hotttpockets' fix exchange. her prompt is: kris and katy on their mission trip to south africa--this trip is when they realize they want to spend the rest of their lives together. include this moment (see below for the picture).
special thanks to joannacullen for informing me about Table Mountain :)
Charles hates her. He always does.
It’s not that he hates, hates her; no. He just dislikes her enough to elusively maintain distance; he would interact willingly but always let out a stock of possessive aggressive jokes when the right time should come.
And he certainly despises her enough to constantly drag Kris away from her.
The truth is, Charles is jealous of Katy-and hating himself for it.
Because he knows very well that he has no one to blame. That it’s not her fault that she, and not he, was the one spending a fourth grade with Kris. That she was the one sharing a high school, or an orchestra tour bus amongst many others. That her existence precedes his.
It’s just that Charles was there when Katy wasn’t. A start is never easy and when some 19-year-old Arkansan aspiring musician (hypothetically speaking) is doing it alone in an adrenaline-fused college dorm, failing to be a professional in something he never even believes in… Well, he kinda regrets the decisions he’s made, especially the one that makes him alone in the first place. Then, he kinda needs someone else to share anxieties with; someone who, when he looks at his class schedule through gritted teeth, would pat him in the back and say, “Man, we gotta sit next to each other at the final!”
Back then, Kris had Charles. He was there when Kris curled up in the corner of his bed with his guitar, trying to be melancholy about “Not getting anywhere.” Or about “That Katy girl,” a subject that they seemed to keep falling back into. And then later about “That adulterous wench” (his words; not Kris’). Then that one about the moon.
When Kris came up with a petite blonde at the end of their freshman year, introducing her as that Katy girl, Charles shook her hand so earnestly that he was afraid he was going to break her arms. It was when Kris started making long distance calls just to ask her favor for a paper he was procrastinating about that Charles began telling the jokes. By the time Katy joined their Chi Alpha and signed up for the South African project with them, Charles had hated her already-and hated himself in the process.
It wasn’t until their pastor read them the rules that he started laughing out loud again. Because there it was, written on the photocopied paper, that an interaction between a boy and a girl should be limited in any way possible-interpret it the way you want. Charles, though, took it as a sign; a justification he most certainly needed.
A few months before they left, he would pop up unexpectedly everytime Katy paid a visit, or ask something distracting to Kris when he was on the phone with her. But there was always a kiss, a touch, a “Call you again later” and Katy would drive to him again, Kris would dial her number every night. Charles would be there too, sure. The thing is, it didn’t matter because they were still home.
But a few plane trips and some bus rides later, Cape Town was no longer an idea, a plan, a map and whatnot. It became the children, the songs, the prayer and the distance that started to dawn on them. And Charles was counting his blessings. He would tackle hug Kris whenever they met, making sure Katy saw it all the while-from afar. He would interrupt their hurried conversation, proclaiming himself “the third person in the relationship.” He would wink at Katy and say, “You know I love him like that,” jokingly calling Kris his “straight gay boyfriend.”
Meanwhile, Katy just laughed.
But it’s break time all of a sudden. And then Table Mountain comes into view.
The one day trip to the mountain is the least that the staff can do to show their gratitude. Take it as an exchange for the non-existent salary for the students. And here, Katy hits pay dirt.
She likes to think it’s God’s work that the cableway car that carries them to the top of the mountain should be able to hold only 65 passengers. Or that Charles is person number 66.
Charles pouts playfully when Kris and the other boys tease him from the cablecar that starts moving, leaving him to stand on the edge of the waiting lane. Katy, too, watches him from behind one of the visored windows. The left end of her lips curl when she loses him in the distance; nothing but a dot in a sea of rocks.
She turns to look at Kris at the opposite end of the vehicle, staring outside with watchful eyes. Katy snickers. Nature boy! She remembers calling him that too, and being replied by a song instead. Still, yes; it’s always been a part of him, nature. Along with God, his family, his guitar, his voice. She’d love to think that he’s thrown her name somewhere in the list.
Katy bites her lip then, wary all of a sudden. But, God! Perhaps there’s a reason why she’s here and he’s there and Charles is not.
Meanwhile, his mouth twitches a little, like he’s smiling. Like he knows she’s watching him. Like he knows.
And maybe he does. Because as soon as they reach their destination and the cablecar stops with a gentle jolt, he just stands there at the station’s doorway, almost blocking everybody’s way. Like he’s waiting. The other boys don’t even notice him, scurrying over to the restaurant next to the station instead. Katy pauses beside him, patiently waiting for other people to pass. And when they’re all gone and the car whirs behind her, slowly descending to pick up the leftovers-to pick up Charles, she calls out.
“Hey.”
Kris flashes a smile as he looks back at her. “Hey,” he says.
She grins back at him, asking, “Wanna take a walk?”
He purses his lips, shrugging all the while. But then the smile returns, reaching his eyes as he replies her. “Sure.”
Kris leads their way then, slightly jogging along the walking trails. The trails follow a nature-built, rocky, yet safe path around the mountain. It’s wide enough to allow a group of Japanese tourists to stop and take pictures, while the students walk pass them in honest awe. But it’s certainly close to the edge of the cliff enough to allure visitors to stretch out their necks and take a peek at what’s underneath.
Katy follows closely behind Kris, trying to remember his steps. He seems to change his course a lot, quickly maneuvering his feet elsewhere when he saw too many people occupying the spot he’s been eyeing. More than once does she bump against his back and almost lose her balance. He will turn around and grin sheepishly; “Sorry.” But he doesn’t hold her hand unless she signals him to, and she rarely does it. Katy O’Connell can find her own way around; thank you very much! And he knows this-knows her so well. The one time she wants his help, he smirks and mumbles, “Crappy cheerleader.” She rambles in return, teasing about his sense of direction, or the lack thereof.
Funnily enough, as soon as the words leave her mouth, he stops. Katy looks around and finds them in a remote space. Someone is laughing in the distance, and she thinks she recognizes the voice. Other than that, it’s a series of endlessness; endless sky, rocks, emptiness. They’re here.
She turns back to Kris, already making his way to the edge of the mountain cliff. He proceeds to sit there, feet dangling and swaying back and forth. He clears his throat too; a silent invite for her to join him. She obeys.
Little pebbles fly and fall as she scrapes them off with her shoes. Some of them mar the skin on her palms when she squats and presses the ground for support. Katy puts her feet one by one forward, and it’s not long before she’s properly seated, mirroring Kris’ position.
She dusts the pebbles off her palms. From the corner of her eyes, she watches Kris’ fingers as they curl around his knees.
Katy turns to the view in front of her then. She sighs.
The spot that Kris has picked overlooks the green hills that declines and melts into the wide sea. She’s trying, to no avail, to remember the name too, clustered somewhere in a travel book she’s bought a long time ago. She turns slightly towards Kris, eager to ask him.
But the waves hit the rock somewhere below them and she thinks, next time. There’s, too, a conversation they had yesterday before Charles came and took him away but Kris hums beside her and Katy forgets what she’s going to say.
So she stays quiet, listening to the tunes of Kris’ breath instead. And she falls in love with the sound.
It’s Kris who finally breaks the silence.
He giggles softly. “We should do this again.”
Katy blinks. “Sure,” she prompts. “I’ll just let Pastor Mark know that we’ll be late and I’ll tell the kids I can’t help with their homework.”
Kris laughs at that, throwing his head back as he does so.
The amusement stays when he continues. “No. Not now,” he swallows. “I mean, 50 years from now.”
Katy takes a deep breath. “Deal,” she answers-and smiles.
They sit there for a few more minutes before a click startles them. They turn around and there’s a friend, holding a camera. She giggles too, shouting something like “Gotcha!” and giving out empty threats about showing the picture to Pastor Mark. But Kris and Katy still oblige when she keeps clicking, taking another picture. And another, and another.
“Hi!”
The other voice that greets them is sharp and cold, also sudden enough to catch them off guard. It’s Charles, out of breath and panting but as larger than life as ever. He fixes his eyes at Kris when he asks, “The other guys want to buy some snacks for later. Wanna come?”
Kris shifts beside Katy; his hand brushing her own as he walks towards Charles. She can almost hear the laugh that lingers on his lips.
“Sure,” Kris says.
Charles is already turning his body half-way when Katy calls out to him. “Bye, Charles!”
He pauses to pivot back and meet Katy’s gaze. “Thank you,” he whispers, fists clutching the hem of his t-shirt. And it’s like he’s counting the days before everything is over; before Cape Town becomes a memory and they all graduate or drop out and he no longer can sit beside his best friend at final exams.
Katy watches in silence as he and Kris leave before returning to her friend to take some more pictures. The sea is glinting at the background and she remembers, she never asks Kris what its name is.
But she sighs again. Later, she tells herself. It’s not like she can’t ask him later. Or 50 years from now, for that matter.
End.