A Moment More

"Hahaha! That's actually pretty funny! You'd make an awesome comedienne..."

"Haha really? Wait, wha-?"

The tree house wasn't quiet tonight, as it was ever other evening. Soft warm orange light painted the walls gloomy, but the laughter inside the lonely shack betrayed whatever sad atmosphere the little candle induced. It was a happy day for Antoinette and William.



"Your hand feels warm..."

"Yeah, it has been. You know how it is when I'm with you Toni."

"Haha, and here I was, thinking I'm the one with monthly visitors!"

William Sybill was born to a traditional family of five. The fact that he was two years older than his younger brother, who was two years older than the youngest, never fail to convey this fact. His father was always away for work; if they were fortunate, he'd come home after six months bearing toys and other fancy habiliments and ornaments. Chocolates too, which he loved to the death. His mother was a busybody, always involving herself with work somewhere else. She would push herself everyday, but Mrs Sybill was only doing it for her family; after all, she wouldn't bother firing and hiring maids at a regular basis if it weren't for the good of her sons.

"Ahh, Will, you're such a charmer..."

"What did you just say?"

"Hmmm... Sorry, you just missed the train. Either you wait for the next one or wait for it to come back!"

"Aww, but I hate waiting for trains, they take forever and they're almost always full every time, I never get to ride on one without having my lungs squeezed shut!"

"Haha, that's the point!"

Lithe Miss Antoinette lived not so very far from the Sybills, but just far enough that they don't meet very often. She was a spiffy teenager a week older than William; confident, strong and quite avante-garde. The older of two daughters born to the Marrions, her height betrays her maturity, or it might be the other way around. Her mother and father ran their own little confectionery, a bright cheery place about a train ride away from their residence. They too were quite liberal and out of the ordinary, as much as they were loving and protective of their daughters.

"Toni... Hey..."

"Hmmm? Was I falling asleep? Sorry..."

"Haha, no, don't worry, you had a rough day I can tell."

"Why? Am I an open book to you?"

He could never really tell what's in the mind of Miss Marrion. For his sixteenth (or maybe fifteenth, Sybills were gifted with spotty memory), she surprised him with a peck in the cheek (the first obscurely romantic gesture he's ever received). He remembered giving her a little stuffed animal a week before, and maybe a little saccharine letter to go along with it. At times she would completely ignore him, for weeks on end; other times she'd be absolutely delighted if they could spend some time together. He's gotten used to it though, if only because he's grown to like Toni in a way even he cannot explain. To him, he'd wait an eternity if, by the end of it all, he can have a minute with her.

"Hey, isn't about time for you to go? Your parents would be worried sick..."

"Shouldn't you tell that to yourself, overprotected little charming man?"

"Haha, so I guess the train's back huh?"

"Wha- oh, so it's like that now huh! Take that!"

"Hey what?!? Cut it out! You started it!"

The little tree house on 21st has been the silent witness to the young twain's excursion. By morning, sunlight flooded the warm little shack; evenings was either darkness or a brave little candle flame. It was surprisingly watertight and durable for its construction, though the creaking floors and grated walls gave away far too many evidences of weakness. It mattered not for Toni and Will; it gave them privacy and escape, and that was all they really wanted. It was a nice foil to what they shared; battered, beaten and worn out but exceptionally and unexpectedly strong and persistent. Stubbornness is something the three of them have in common.

The dimming light signaled the end of their borrowed time together.

Wordlessly, they stood up, Toni first, and then Will. Toni took the little exhausted candlestick, holding it close to Will. He took her hand, curling his fingers around hers. Her fingers felt warm around the faux metal taper holder, a sensation he's grown to love. They've done this countless of times in the past, a bittersweet parting ritual. They'd stare at each other, waiting for the candle to burn out, light fading from their faces. They knew it was time to go, but need was less than want. She would rest her head against his chest as the light faded into nothingness, and she herself would fade into his arms.

But it would be different tonight.

"Toni... I... Can I?"

"Aww Will, you just had to ruin the moment? Way to keep it spontaneous!"

"Sorry..."

"..."

"Well?"

"Fine..."

The first they say is always the best. There will be nothing quite like the first time; it was the first after all, and thus is unique from the second, or third, or the hundredth. People describe by comparison, how then would you describe something that you  have nothing to compare with? People describe by contrast, but what if there was nothing you can contrast against?

The light dimmed, danced, faded and died. The two knew what they had to do. But as they melted into each other, intoxicated but not overwhelmed, they knew for one night they could risk admonition, if only for one more minute, one more ephemeral moment together. Their eyes were closed, it was dark, but for them both, it was as vivid and bright as daytime, and as warm too.

It hurt them both to say goodbye, but for now they couldn't care less. For what is a thousand goodbyes compared to a moment of dream.