Rusty Bonds-short story

He waited at the park, checking his phone from time to time. Truth be told, he was bored as hell having to wait for so long. There wasn't really much to do at the park unless you were high or with friends or both. Firstly, he had no way of getting high. He was too much of a goody two shoes to really get anything or know how to. Secondly, he was waiting for his friend. She was just late.

Not that he really cared, anything to get him out of the house for as long as possible was fine with him. The park was just the worst place to wait though. It was dirty and old. Graffiti covered most of the original faded colors. The swings were either broken or flipped around the bar enough times rendering then useless. The park wasn't even that big. It had a sing slide, two sets of swings, those spring horsie things, and a basketball court. Not to mention a semi-big open field behind where he sat on the swings that was almost as big as the park itself. It was quiet and lonely too. But the worst type of desolate. The type that felt eerie and unwavering. Ominous as if you were sat right in the middle of the woods. Yet all that was around it was rows of houses. Some houses looking new with gardens and dogs forever stuck out there. Others were old and sagged, looking like a hoarder lived in there.

The air always had a metallic taste here. Probably due to all the rust from every house garden or not. That's really the perfect way to describe the area; rusty. Always the faintest smell of weed or cigarettes. As if someone had been smoking in the very swing in he sat in. It was probably from one of the houses nearby.

It was a damn shame that most people smoked in the area. Didn't they know that kids were at play here? Even if it was just him sitting there on a swing, he was still a minor. A minor who would love to keep his lungs intact.

He sighed, still bored. He debated for a moment whether falling asleep here would be a good idea or not. Ultimately, no, but he was just too damn tired to walk home. He hoped to be rejuvenated by his friend's presence. They were just that close, you know. Comfortable enough to endure small silences between conversations and still feel some energy. They both had their limits and they both understood that.

And it's not like they would even talk about important world events, no, this way the only time got to slack off from the harsh grips of time moving forwards and the oncoming anxiety as an appetizer. They'd goof around and gossip. It was what they both needed and what kept their friendship alive after all the years. They've always struck up easy and comfortable conversation. Sharing secrets and darkest memories. Never focusing on the bad and instead enjoying life. Despite being teenagers, mere years away from the real world, they were still kids at heart and needed some time to enjoy the life around them.

It was always a give and take relationship too. Neither giving too much and neither taking too much. That idea always seeping into their conversations too. It was a back and forth every time. And never any conflict either. If they disagreed, they would talk it out and come into an agreement in the end.

It was nice and unlike anything else. And he loved that about it all. He always saw friendships around either crumble or come as creepy with how same-y the two in the friendship would become. What he saw as unique with theirs is that they got to be individuals with opinions and it was fine that way. Anything was acceptable and light-hearted.

He loved her, honestly. Not romantically or sexually or anything like that. She was like a sister he always wanted. Always there for him and willing to hear him out no matter the subject. Most would think they were dating because it was just them two talking to each other about stupid shit. And seeing a girl and a guy sitting there just enjoying each other's presence was always seen as 'oh they're dating'. When in fact, they were each other's wingmans half the time. Not that they were successful at snatching a date but still.

She was always a constant in his life. A constant joy that he always took for granted. And now as the idea of Senior year seems to be approaching ever so quickly, he wants to use all the time he can to spend time with her. That's where the differing ideals really came into play. They both had different plans for college and careers. They probably wouldn't see each other for awhile after highschool. And he wanted nothing more than to leave off on a high note full of good memories to spare. He wanted this friendship to be cherished by both of them. And he knew she did cherish it but he wanted to make sure it was a friendship she'd tell her future kids about. And maybe if he were to have kids, he would tell them about it too.

The fast approaching and inevitable end was anxiety inducing but it was perfect to just kick back and relax with her. Even if it meant just sitting around an old rusty park and talking about who was dating and who wasn't. It was a genuine and platonic love that he loved having. Love is still love even if it isn't romantic love. Despite being the typical teenager being needy for romantic love, the friendship he shared with her was enough for now.

"Hey!" He looked up and saw his best friend running over. "Sorry I'm late, I was washing the dishes because my mom was being annoying-hey, why are you crying?"

"Am I?"

"Yeah."

"I guess I got too emotional." He chuckled a bit as he soaked up the tears with his sleeve.

"Why were you crying?"

"No reason." He smiled. She stared at him for a moment, suspicious. She sat down on the swing next to him anyway.

"So did I tell you about what I did in art today?"

"No."

"Okay so..." She began her story about dropping a canvas full of wet paint on the floor. And while listening to it, it occured to him how mundane it actually was. Yet it was funny and random and enjoyable. It was all so mundane but that was the beauty of it. And he wouldn't have it any other way, honestly.