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Don’t mess it up.
Nico’s words hadn’t stopped reverberating through his head since yesterday afternoon, when the short Italian had cornered him in an alley in New Rome. They haunted him into his dreams, which were filled with horrifying images of breaking Ferris wheels and spilling something all over Hazel, gods forbid. He had even given Piper a midnight panic call, in which he had garbled his fears without much breath, and she contained her laughter. In the end, she gave him calming reassurance and a bit of advice about the right snacks and when to eat them.
In the morning he spent an hour in his boxers, agonising over a decision of fashion. Frank wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed in a mess of clothes on the floor if Annabeth hadn’t called. Before he could utter anything past a hello she was telling him to wear the navy and orange striped shirt with the grey jeans, ending with a quick wish of luck.
When he first caught sight of Hazel, he tripped over flat ground. She was just so damn beautiful that he forgot about gravity, and he was happy when he tasted gravel. Happy because the next moment she was right there, helping him up. She was wearing this pale blue dress, the style that of the 60’s with this cute little collar and a large, poofy skirt, like she had just stepped out of a Disney movie. She hadn’t used any makeup as far as he could tell, something he was immensely relieved about -she looked better without any. Her hair was wild and free, how he liked it best. The thing that definitely took the cake though was the wide smile that graced her face.
Frank supposed that he now had dirt in his hair, and all over himself, but this very extraordinary girl made him forget all of that. As long as he didn’t mess it up.
And so they set off, hand in hand to the bay carnival.
Frank wasn’t scared of thrill rides. Or, at least that was what he was telling himself. But there was no going back now, as the bars were lowering and he had a highly excited daughter of Plato next to him in the cracked leather seats.
One second he was having nudge wars with his girlfriend, the next he was 120 metres in the air (yes, metres, he’s Canadian after all, and the metric system is just so much better). He wondered briefly if the creators of the ride had designed the amount of time at the top carefully, for maximum terror. And then they were plunging face-first straight down, much, much too fast. Beside him, Hazel was screaming (not in horror, like him, but ectasy, of all crazy things). The air was ripping past, and he didn’t trust the solidarity of the safety bars, but Hazel was happy, so it was worth it.
He walked out the gates a little paler, shaking a little but surprisingly still generally in one piece. He was completely unprepared when Hazel reached up and kissed his nose gently, with a whispered “Thank you”.
He ended up braving several more death traps, perhaps more daunting than a run-in with gorgons. But he got through it, only to realise that the day had sped by so much, and the sun was on its way towards the horizon.
They’re walking down the lines of stalls, candyfloss in hand and bunting overhead (he only knew it was called “bunting” because Hazel told him). And then he sees it, and it’s perfect. Incredibly corny, but perfect. And just his game.
He pays for three tries, and picks up the mock rifle. Testing the weight and feel -mainly just to look like he knows what he’s doing- and sending a quick prayer to his father, he readies his aim at the cans. Hazel hovers at his elbow, watching intently. Now would be a really bad time to mess up.
There must have been some divine intervention, judging by the expression on the carnies face when the cans come tumbling down. Thank you thank you thank you. Hazel gave him a little applause, giggles bubbling from her lips. Frank chose the gigantic gold bear that had first caught his attention, with a ribbon about its neck the same colour as Hazel’s dress.
Doubt shook through him, what if it was too corny? Was he being a complete fool? Hesitant arms tentatively held out the prize, blushing cheeks and peering out the corners of scrunched up eyes.
And then Hazel was laughing, making the world brighter, the colours more vivid. Frank had just enough time to open his eyes in awe before she jumped up at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and legs clutching his waist, the bear squashed in between.
Shocked to the heels of his feet, managed to keep the three of them aloft for a moment or two before they came crashing down, Frank’s second time that day. Luckily, Frank had fallen backwards, so both him and the soft toy broke Hazel’s fall.
“Oh I’m sorry!” Hazel hiccuped into his chest.
“S’alright” It really wasn’t, the air was only just working itself into his lungs. “Hey, how about we catch the sunset on the Ferris wheel?” Frank supposed he owed Piper one, aas Hazel gave him a smile and a nod. She then seemed to remember their position -on the ground, with an increasing crowd of cooing people watching- and sprang up abruptly, pink colouring her cheeks just so.
Frank is sure that they’re going to miss the sunset, looking at the huge line they faced. The sun was only going to get closer to the water.
The ending he had been hoping for was slipping from his grasp. But Fortuna must have favoured them today, because an old woman caught sight of them, his worried face and the bear. She worked up a ruckus worthy of her old age, winning the usually bruske city dwellers over to let “Proper romance” through to the start of the line. All the attention made him horribly embarrassed, made worse when they started clapping.
Frank is relieved when they finally make it inside the compartment. With a whirr the wheel starts up and they begin the steady climb upwards, marvelling at the view -they could see for kilometres (be quiet you imperialists) over the ocean.
He’s pretty sure what happens next is thanks to the batty old woman. A few cycles go through, pressed against the cool glass, seats long forgotten that only the teddy occupied. Then, just like any incredibly cheesy movie, they come to a halt right at the very top, the sun now halfway behind the waves.
The day had just gone past so fast, he hadn’t had enough time to glance up and realise it was slipping away. But in these seconds, right now, time was stuck in amber when their lips met.
When had he become a such a sucker for cliches?