Fiction: Let's Talk About the Weather
Title: Let's Talk About the Weather
Author: ilcocoabean
Genre: General
Rating: PG
Prompt: [Click]Sun
Word Count: 354
Note: Written for 15-minute-fic. Not sure if I'll write anything else with these characters.
He's never been good at talking to others. It's not because he's shy although most people think he is. He just doesn't think he's that interesting enough to talk to. He can talk about the weather, his family, and maybe his friends but never about himself. He's not interesting. He's boring.
So why would anyone bother talking to him? He's not handsome and he's forgotten when his friends bring him along to parties. People always ignore the boy slipping in just for drinks and quickly slipping out before the sun is down. Even his friends forget about him, not realizing he's not at the same party.
It's fair to say it's a surprise when someone follows him and attempts to persuade him to go dancing at a nearby bar. The girl looks bored herself. Smoking a cigarette outside and glaring at the lights from the house they're both leaving.
“Usually my friends bring me along to drive them home,” she says. “Since this is their house, I don't see the point in sticking around.”
He doesn't say anything but he smiles at least.
“So what'll it be? Dancing?” She looks hopeful.
He shakes his head. “Can't dance.”
“Oh.” She makes a face. “I suppose that would be a problem. Fine. How about a cheeseburger and a soda? Food is always a good option.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to go back to my place and watch TV until the sun comes up. Fridays are always my 'social interaction' day. Therapist said it would help... Well my sister who's a therapist said it would help. Don't really have an official therapist. I probably should.” She throws the stub of the cigarette onto the ground. “So what do you say?”
He paused for a moment before nodding. What else did he have to do?
“Good. Let's take a bus. My car's out of gas and I don't want to take your car in case you turn out to be a creeper. Oh hey.” She suddenly turned around. “My name's Lola, what's yours?”
“William.” He says.
Author: ilcocoabean
Genre: General
Rating: PG
Prompt: [Click]Sun
Word Count: 354
Note: Written for 15-minute-fic. Not sure if I'll write anything else with these characters.
He's never been good at talking to others. It's not because he's shy although most people think he is. He just doesn't think he's that interesting enough to talk to. He can talk about the weather, his family, and maybe his friends but never about himself. He's not interesting. He's boring.
So why would anyone bother talking to him? He's not handsome and he's forgotten when his friends bring him along to parties. People always ignore the boy slipping in just for drinks and quickly slipping out before the sun is down. Even his friends forget about him, not realizing he's not at the same party.
It's fair to say it's a surprise when someone follows him and attempts to persuade him to go dancing at a nearby bar. The girl looks bored herself. Smoking a cigarette outside and glaring at the lights from the house they're both leaving.
“Usually my friends bring me along to drive them home,” she says. “Since this is their house, I don't see the point in sticking around.”
He doesn't say anything but he smiles at least.
“So what'll it be? Dancing?” She looks hopeful.
He shakes his head. “Can't dance.”
“Oh.” She makes a face. “I suppose that would be a problem. Fine. How about a cheeseburger and a soda? Food is always a good option.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to go back to my place and watch TV until the sun comes up. Fridays are always my 'social interaction' day. Therapist said it would help... Well my sister who's a therapist said it would help. Don't really have an official therapist. I probably should.” She throws the stub of the cigarette onto the ground. “So what do you say?”
He paused for a moment before nodding. What else did he have to do?
“Good. Let's take a bus. My car's out of gas and I don't want to take your car in case you turn out to be a creeper. Oh hey.” She suddenly turned around. “My name's Lola, what's yours?”
“William.” He says.