Work Text:
Characters:
Virgil, Roman, Remus
Setting: Outdoors
Additional things:
A tree
Snow in any form
Remus was perched on a tree, scouting out any birds he could potentially watch and shoot down with the stick in his hands. He saw one and crouched lower on the branch, causing some of the snow to flitter to the ground.
“Could you not?” A voice called from below.
“Nope!” Remus yelled back, popping the ‘p.’
The other voice groaned in frustration, wiping away the snow from the paper script he was reading, praying that there was no water damage from the snow melting. He wasn’t sure why he agreed to come out here with the man dressed in punk esk clothing.
Remus went back into his original position, his toes firmly on the branch, sitting back onto his calves. He watched for more birds or squirrels, though, most had learned to not come by that area around lunchtime every Sunday. It had become routine for Remus and his brother, Roman, to come down to the park each week at that time. For Remus, it was a fun time to mess around and get his energy out but for Roman, it was a chance to, hopefully, relax and get his creativity flowing for the week ahead.
Remus’s ears physically perked up as he saw movement from a nearby tree. He picked up another twig and hurled it, it bouncing off the intended target. The figure turned around and Remus finally realized that it was, in fact, not an animal but another person. His eyes widened, suddenly aware of just what he’s done.
“Sorry!” He called, not wanting the person to get angry at him like the old woman at the Walmart had last week.
Remus was a little relieved when he saw the person he had hit was just another boy around his age. He has a face caked in dark makeup, the upper lip coated in a thick layer of black lipstick while the lower lip was a nude color. His base makeup itself was simple and likely just foundation and powder. Remus looked at his outfit, a ripped up t-shirt with a band name in the corner, the font glitched looking. Over that was a leather jacket with patches littering the arms and decorative purple stitching on the front panels.
“It’s chill,” the gruff voice replied. “Just…” He trailed off the word, picking up a stick of his own and hurling it back at Remus.
Remus squawked, narrowly avoiding the projectile. “Hey! No fair!” He picked up a small stone and chucked it back at the darkly dressed boy.
Remus’s rock landed on the other boy’s knee, it hitting just at the unripped part so no damage was done to the skin. However, he earned a glare from the other. As he thrust another piece of bark to Remus, he called out, “What’s your name?”
“Remus!” He yelled back, throwing another rock
“Virgil!” The other cried back, throwing another stick.
Laughter filled the air as each boy got to know one other, the sticks and other tree bits being thrown between the two only added to the absurdity of the situation. Once, a piece hit Roman, Virgil immediately getting worried but Remus assured him that he was fine and that he knew Roman even though the latter was clearly mad at both of them for disturbing him. They both were amused, and by the end of it, both sweating, exhausted boys had found a little bit of happiness.