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intheheartTitle: Proof
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lars earns Summer's trust.
Notes: Apparently I'm still writing in this AU. Who knew.
Lars had known Summer Kendall for all of ten minutes, and he was laughably gone over her.
It was just—she was perfect, all big eyes and ringlets and bright smiles, skipping beside him as they meandered down a forested path in the park after her family, and so what if she wouldn't look him in the eye? He could tell already that she liked him, that she trusted him, and that was more than enough.
Just then Summer stopped dead on the path, caught his arm, and pointed, her eyes alight. "Look!" she whispered. "Do you see?"
He did not, but he crouched down by her anyway. "See what?" he asked, following her eyeline to the shore of a pond, overgrown with water lilies and tall grass.
Her little face crumpled, and she dropped her hand. "Never mind."
Something bit at his stomach, and he dropped to his knees. "No, please," he said, not-quite-touching her cheek—she didn't like to be touched, Aaron had said that. "Tell me what you see?"
She looked at him then, not meeting his eyes, but a wide-lashed look of wondering, of decisions.
"Faeries," she said, at last. "All glittery and dancy. Do you see them?"
He wanted to, desperately. "No," he said, at last. "I'm sorry, I don't."
"I'm not telling stories," she said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "I'm not, I promise, I..."
"Of course you aren't," Lars said, surprised. "Just because I don't see them doesn't mean you don't."
Her eyes opened even wider, then she flung herself at him, small arms tight around his chest, little face pressed against his shoulder.
"I really do see them," she mumbled, trembling. "I really do."
"I know," he said, looking at the rippling water, at the dust motes dancing in the dusk.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lars earns Summer's trust.
Notes: Apparently I'm still writing in this AU. Who knew.
Lars had known Summer Kendall for all of ten minutes, and he was laughably gone over her.
It was just—she was perfect, all big eyes and ringlets and bright smiles, skipping beside him as they meandered down a forested path in the park after her family, and so what if she wouldn't look him in the eye? He could tell already that she liked him, that she trusted him, and that was more than enough.
Just then Summer stopped dead on the path, caught his arm, and pointed, her eyes alight. "Look!" she whispered. "Do you see?"
He did not, but he crouched down by her anyway. "See what?" he asked, following her eyeline to the shore of a pond, overgrown with water lilies and tall grass.
Her little face crumpled, and she dropped her hand. "Never mind."
Something bit at his stomach, and he dropped to his knees. "No, please," he said, not-quite-touching her cheek—she didn't like to be touched, Aaron had said that. "Tell me what you see?"
She looked at him then, not meeting his eyes, but a wide-lashed look of wondering, of decisions.
"Faeries," she said, at last. "All glittery and dancy. Do you see them?"
He wanted to, desperately. "No," he said, at last. "I'm sorry, I don't."
"I'm not telling stories," she said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "I'm not, I promise, I..."
"Of course you aren't," Lars said, surprised. "Just because I don't see them doesn't mean you don't."
Her eyes opened even wider, then she flung herself at him, small arms tight around his chest, little face pressed against his shoulder.
"I really do see them," she mumbled, trembling. "I really do."
"I know," he said, looking at the rippling water, at the dust motes dancing in the dusk.
