Hour And A Half

'Can we undo things.

Like fix our eyes on the road nor your fluorescent eyes.

Can we move on though we never stood.

I hate being in one place even when I'm caught up in the moment.

I ask we undo things for this must reach you while I can't.

It's a pity just how I won't hear your voice.

Not a resonance of your laughter, not a rhapsody playing merrily when you're in my very presence.

I want to end this fantasy, giving you a special place in my heart.

Cast you out from the hasty crowd, catching your delicate iris.

I want to forget your name like I never knew it before. Just the way you chance not to.

Sketch my moves like a maniac desperate for nothing more than affection...'

Johnny glared at the paper one last time before finally feeding it into the campfire in place.

Everybody gathered around and he sat on his heels staring right through his best friend Simon whose eyes flickered drastically as he'd been proclaimed suffering from hypothermia. For him, Johnny fed the last creased pages into the fire that was now radiating more warmth and the light dancing on Skylar's face.

One last time, Johnny admired the cause of his downfall with a dose of hope to see her the same way he did an hour and a half ago when they were all soaking wet. Despite having spent so many days letting her image occupy his thoughts, none of his imaginations ever got fulfilled and cast in reality.

He portrayed an immense sense of inhibition that he was now the outcast in his modern society and amongst age groups. It was not something he was fully ashamed of but with each time passing by his procrastinating self gave up the odds.

"Typical." He muttered. His blank stares and sometimes a slight curve at his lips forming a smile attracted the attention of the very reason, Skylar.

"Dude you're seriously creeping me out." She said.

"D-Damn that was s-straight forward." Simon retorted, speaking for the first time since his friend pulled him out of the lake, that hour and a half ago when a bicycle race took tracks around the cliffsides. That is where Simon's story comes in - rode off a cliff in the most inconsistent of matters. Of course, the results were below sea level.

"Poor thing." Both Skylar and Johnny sympathized wearing visceral expressions upon their faces having remembered the unaccustomed hour and a half ago. With this sudden reminiscence, he completely dismissed what she had just said about him. Not to bother, he gets that a hell lot. The only difference was it coming from this girl in particular.

Skylar pushes a strand of hair hanging down her face fixing it behind her ear. Her defined chest inclined forward abruptly so, posing that magnificent build of her upper structure. The typical slash iconic self analysis commonly shared amongst girls whenever a playboy to whom they adored crossed their range of sight. Somatic instincts! As for this, she was facing Johnny's direction. Oh no, you don't have to be a genius nor a stolid badass so not to get the wrong idea out of a female's precept.

It was the figure reflected on Simon's spectacles that spoke to him about all. Leisurely closing the meters far behind him, was a six-feet three standing bastard he knew to be trouble. Plausible arguments of comparison against Johnny was that his clothes were a tight fit, from his grey t-shirt to his jeans. A cap was something you were most presumably never to see on Johnny's head, unlike this guy.

Instead of closed fittings or baggy clothes, Johnny wore a rather simple and decent jacket contrasted by a white t-shirt beneath. Black cargo pants and icecream socks - his hightop sneakers rested on the sand left to dry up. The banal fella who only evinced the height of five-feet six, became known around town for sailing the winds of mischief.

"Josh!" The playboy called waving a bat he was holding.

When the playboy had reached the group, he plunged his bat down in the sand, grinned and raised his chin, taking turns to look at everyone with a psychopathic gaze through his sandy blonde hair that drooped over his face.

"What a surprise, Josh." He began.

"For the last time, my name is Johnny not Josh, Jimmy or Julian. I appreciate your efforts though." A cheeky smile unveiled at the tips of his lips.

"Pitiful." Sighed the playboy, a long one whilst nudging his item and refocusing his eye at Skylar who was sat on a log as cozy as a hatchling. "I trudged those roads looking for your lousy ass. There's some unsettled business you and I must reflect on. You're one lucky bastard - I'm feeling generous today and I wouldn't like to cause a scene."

A numbing sensation ran through his body. Johnny was irritated. For all he knew, this guy was here for one thing and one thing only. Money, if not giving an ass whooping.

Johnny reached into his pockets pulling out a watch with one strip missing. Under the cracked screen the arms read twenty-to-seven.

Over an hour and a half ago, in all endless possibilities of encountering new trouble, instead, trouble befell him. It was a particularly breezy noon when the pine leaves were curled up from the usual sunny days. Many creatures had gone into hiding but the seagulls would stick around for the view of the orange sun climbing down the horizon.

Simon, even by the sound of it according to the way society judged a book by its cover nonetheless the kind of nerdy guy known to befriend the other so easily disliked, felt obliged to tackle off a couple of 'Johnny's problems.' He placed a bet on himself in a streetfight his pal was bout in.

The clifftop serving as the arena, pulled off by log fences to finish off the set. It was just the perfect battle ground for a wimp like him to get beaten into pulp. As the audience had placed bets prior the game, being presented with Simon brought them to outrage. They had penetrated the arena - a stampede hurtling toward him. Driven by absolute fury and disfavour, it was clear that they were not calmed with investing in a sinking ship.

How lucky was he that Skylar happened to be there, or rather, how unlucky were the two of them?

"Hey genius, hop on!"Skylar had called, skipping a leg over a bicycle ready to embark on her first ever getaway ride. Her passenger wasted no time. If the climax hadn't been reached yet, the berserk audience adjusted their own gear mechanics for those who owned two wheels engaging on a high speed chase across the scenery.

At this moment, Simon was regretting his kindness up to the point that he was trying to figure out the puzzles to such a scandal.

Number one: Johnny was not the type to throw fists nevertheless rent an ass kicking. So why had he done it this time? They have spent a couple of years as friends stumbling upon mischief if Johnny was a part in the picture. Despite even that, his fondness of his buddy oriented from the phrase, ' if we get caught remember that you're deaf and I don't speak English' and 'gotcha back, bro!'

Second and what made him come to a conclusion: Skylar! It made so much sense to him now why she was there in the first place or could it be that Johnny put himself under such exploitation? Unprecedented, he thought.

She is best known for her striking beauty, agreed. On the contrary, her agility and swift mind were yet to add to significant matches with the description. The enemy closed in fairly fast, leaving no room for indecisiveness and flaws. Simon's safety for the very first time lied in a female mate's hands.

An eighteen year-old rookie attempted to hinder the back wheel of Skylar's bicycle, bringing about friction in the most incoherent of moments. Off he flew! Falling back behind getting caught by a few tree roots and stones and knocking off a few of his gang members like a damned bowling ball. It seemed as if his bicycle had decided to be a traitor instead.

Grasping the given time, she put those pedals to their maximum purpose. One slip off the pedals or bumping her passenger's foot would end up in a bloody image which only laid in her concerns.

CRACK!

A bat struck a tree in the corner of her eye, deforming from impact.

"What if we surrender?" Simon cried, fearing for the worst.

"Then we're nothing more than a pile of disfigured toys!" She replied, trying to keep up with her breathing. "These barbarians know nothing better than tossing weapons around. Although... I won't deprive you of your alternatives. Want a chitchat with your new friends: get off my back!"

Poor Simon was a big softy. Hearing those words gave those eyes one of the things they did best. Crying. He tried his best not to sob, keeping it all behind his teeth. Usually, Johnny would use his own fists to wipe them off, he was like a bigger brother to him. Too bad he wasn't calling for duty today, not yet, his potential girlfriend instead. To use his own phrase, 'only in a world called happiness' shall she comfort a grown boy. The phrase meant only in his flawless imaginations.

- Certainly not, not this badassed girl.

It suprised even her how they didn't launch out of the bicycle. She had taken a risky and deadly turn given no other options. The tires also somehow withstood the sudden act against their capacities, just a little. As for the berserk, about three kept a straight track, colliding into logs and rocks. Damn, gasped the convicts knowing that that could've been them.

One last push. One last luck. As she was running out of any and exhaustion was overwhelming her slowly but surely. Everybody and yes, 'everybody' got a breaking sensation as their hearts sank, their guts near to spill out. What Simon prayed not to be, had been. A few meters away was the end of the trail, the edge of the cliff and below was about a one hundred and fifty-feet drop.

Questioning her own impulse, Skylar broke her final speed, derailing the bike's chain and... and...

* * * * * *

Just reminiscing the aftermath gave Simon a bad stomach and an awfull face. They had escaped the call of death perhaps, much thanks to Johnny whom happened to be chasing down too just out of range. Overtaken by impulse as well to save a brother and a crush.

The only after images the other two got were a hand reaching for her, then him. Maybe a winged man with a halo over his head and an otherworldly stairway fading off into eternity. As of the mob, none of them had dared to gamble like they had another life. Not even the craziest amongst them all. Bat tosser!

"Listen," Johnny slipped his watch back into his pocket. " I'll battle you right here, right now and then you'll get off my tail. Something to settle with and pay for the troubles."

"You are an interesting fella, amigo. Subtle brain, but again I don't like to cause a scene."

Johnny took a firm gaze at this bastard, contemplating. Indeed, something was different about him since they first met when he was going to register his name. His age was written all over his bulk physique however something else remained unknown or forgotten. Then, after his creepy long stare, it hit him.

"Who are you?"

With impressions of disappointment, bewilderment and a dose of sorrow, he replies, "Victor, is my name. Devotee of right revenge on haters I am and prince of cun."

"Prince o' wha-?" Skylar barged.

"Skizzle, how ya doin?"

"It's Skylar."

"Hey Victor." Johnny called, now slipping in his shoes."I'll have to call it a day. Do you think tomorrow we can settle this?"

"Well, even if we fight right now, I'll make it quick." He mocked, nudging the tip of his cap. "Okay, you bet. Tomorrow it is!"

Without further redo, Victor swings his bat with a sly smile at Johnny then walks away, resting the bat over his shoulder. Indeed, he was a moron who knew not much than rubbing that hard thing on someone's face. A lifelong trauma. On the contrary, he was no joke.

Leaning forward, Johnny takes Skylar's hand into his and tells her that he insisted on escorting her home. "I'll be just fine." She whispers, opening no room for negotiations. She rides her bicycle up by the lakeside flats disappearing around a turn. The boys watch on until the campfire can spark no more.