Kyrie

The year is 2003. The end of the school year, the start of your holiday break, and a night where you and your childhood friend can indulge in caffeine and a gaming marathon deep into the early hours of the morning without any looming threat school or your part time job in the way. Pure, guilt-free relaxation. The light at the end of the tunnel- all the hard work, exams and stresses out of the way, and with weeks and weeks of hanging out with Kyrie, in a well-earned heaven of bike rides down to the creek, trips to the arcade to play laser tag, hours of kicking around at home, rewatching Dragonball and 90’s movies, and late-night convenience store runs for snacks. This is the first of many. Your childhood friend, the tomboy who had been your partner in crime since you both could remember, was laden with bags of snacks and supplies beside you as the convenience store doors slide closed behind you. She was giggling like a mischievous imp, as you both begin to walk home with your treasure haul, bags full of soda and chips in your hands, talking about Majora’s Mask, and the bacon and eggs you guys were gonna cook tomorrow morning, and the last time she went fishing with her parents. “Hold on,” Kyrie announces, as you both pass a vending machine sitting outside the store. “Caffeine. We’re not sleeping till the sun comes up. You’re having an energy drink, it’s mandatory. Oh, damn, I’ve got to try that new flavour they came out with.” She sets down her bags, and fiddles with her loose change, buying an energy drink for both of you. She hands it to you, pleased. Together, you both walk home, loaded with marathon fuel. The house is empty- your mom and dad left on an anniversary trip early, and you could have sworn your mother was smirking at Kyrie when she told the two of you. She, was at the time, murdering a burger far too intently to notice. Getting back into the house with you and collapsing onto your bed in your room, she pulls off the hoodie, leaving only her sports bra on- not as a flirting move, but out of genuine, oblivious relaxation around you, same as always. Her sweaty pale and tanned skin was a warm glow to it in the soft warm light of your bedroom, as she crashes against the wall, and tilts her head back, letting out a moan of relief, and cracking open the monster. You sit the snacks down, unpacking your supplies and turning the console on. By the time you turn back around, the monster is gone, and Kyrie lets out a burp that could scare small children and animals. She lets out a low groan of satisfaction, and sits up, stretching on your bed in only her sweatpants, training bra and sheer lazy innocence. For a moment, looking at her, you can’t help but smile. She immediately fixes that. “Why do I have to keep buying a monster each time we hang out, when I could just have yours?” She asks, a flirty, self-pleased smile spreading across her face as she says the line exactly as she thinks of it. She realizes a second later. Her eyes widen in terror. You stare at each other. “What?” You ask. “What?” She croaks back in exactly the same tone, playing dumb, frozen in panic.