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“George.” Harold spoke softly to his best friend, as they gazed the stars on a tree that had enough space for some kids to laze around in. “Hm?” George hummed back in response, turning to look at his blondie, with the same messy hairstyle that never seemed to get fixed.
“Do you believe in wishing stars?”
George stared back at the sky and sighed.
“I guess.”
Harold chuckled. “I guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, I wish for a lot of things, but... shooting stars don’t seem to have enough power to grant me everything.” George closes his eyes “but… I guess … the wishes that they do grant, always make me forgive 'em ...because they grant the best ones.”
“Like an upgraded suit of party armour? Or.. or battle bots that have a dance mode and ice cream machines?” Harold giggled "or to win every battle against whatever-the-heck-of-monsters we made from our comics?"
George couldn't help but laugh, he felt so giddy. Harold didn't notice, he would usually notice, but he was too busy coming up with ideas that he didn't notice his partner-in-crime had been so amused at his behaviour. Everything that Harold said, George listened intently, as if it was something he also had thought of, something George would also say.
“Staying friends with you.” George blurted out as he dreamily stares at Harold. Suddenly, Harold’s ears started to burn, and his cheeks had slightly turned pink.
Oh how perfectly it had reached his ears, it’s as if the world made everything shut up just for this exact moment.
“Huh?”
George snapped out of it and nervously laughed. “I- uh… Everytime I begin my wishes, I have us as my longest thought. My longest and firstest wish that we’d be best friends until the end of time.” Then he cleared his throat “then-I’d-wish-for-school-cancelling-and-we’d-spend-the-day-getting-icecream-"
George felt his ears burning. He was too nervous to keep eye contact. He rubbed his own shoulder in nervousness.
Harold smiled.
"We'll be best friends forever and ever." He softly responded, and gently wrapped his arms around George. His voice was trembling, but his last message was clear. "Till' the end of time"
George chuckled, and sniffled. Then he heard sobbing, He pushed Harold back and what he saw his a signature, face full of unease. George looked at him in worry, then wiped his eyes. "The way you express being super-duper overwhelmed makes me so worried. I never know if you're going to cry real hard which'll last for hours, or you're just trying to hold down a big laughing fit that'll last for hours."
"P-probably a bit of both."
They snickered, then it lead to a roll of clutching their stomachs, incoherent babbling and cackling. Harold laughed so hard he nearly fell out the tree, if it weren't for his saviour that pulled him back, making them tumble inside the treehouse.
George felt all warm and fuzzy as he felt Harold lay on his chest, both their hearts thumping like crazy. Their breathing incredibly heavy because they both nearly plummeted to the ground.
"Are you okay?"
'Yeah...'
"You're kinda heavy."
'Oh. Do you want me to get off?'
Not really. George thought to himself. He embraced the fluffy boy. "It's fine. It's no biggie."
Underneath the starry sky, a few dozen shooting stars flew across the sky. It looked like multi-colour ribbons you’d see at parties and celebrations.
The duo didn't seem to bother move, one was too comfortable and the other really didn't want to let go even if his position was a little uncomfortable. Maybe if there were fireworks that lit up, or if the shooting stars made a jingle every time it flew across the sky to catch their attention, Maybe they'd quickly take a peek out their door, or through their glassless window.
They still didn't bother. It was late at night anyway. They can always conjure up some fireworks the next night.
This night, they only thought of each other. Because they're always each others first wishes.
. . .
. . .
. . .
"'t's... been 8 minutes.'
George slumped to the right, still cuddling Harold.
"You counted?"
Harold shrugged.
'Not really I just guessed.'
. . .
"Do you wanna go back up on the branches plan our next comic?"
"While we stare at the stars and stay up late watching the newest series I borrowed?" George gently released Harold and sat up straight. "Yeah."