Work Text:
Avery sits on top of her roof listening to the crash of fireworks against the air, having their own little war. American spirit am I right? She's curled in on herself, hugging her knees with as much strength as she can muster, yet they still remain loosely away from her chest.
Her head cranes upward, hearing another crackle of explosives outdo her headphones.
“One morning this sadness will fossilize,”
More pops erupts through the air.
“And I will forget how to cry…”
She wipes her face again, letting one of her legs hang off the ledge before pathetically forcing it back in place.
“I’ll keep going to work and you wont see a change-”
She looks towards the ground below, to nobody in her neighborhood besides a few kids messing around. The more she thinks, she concludes the height won't kill her. Her head goes back up.
“Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye.”
She gives up on rubbing her eyes and futilely attempts to hug herself tighter. It's the thought that counts, she tells herself, as she lays down, although it looks like she fainted. Same difference.
She keeps her music high and yet the fireworks still blast through her ears, but she doesn't mind all too much. Sparklers snap around her, no one paying her any mind in response to their explosions. They're pretty. She gives an excuse of a smile to them, the most she's got in her.
She lets go of her legs, letting them fall into a form of being cross legged, then dangling off the ledge. Her back falls against the hard tile, scratching at her clothes, and a stream falls from the side of her eyes instead of down her cheeks. She at least takes the time to wipe her nose. Right before her eyes flutter shut solemnly, a loud crash of exothermal energy slams into the atmosphere right in front of her.
“And then one warm summer night, I'll hear fireworks outside, and I'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry.”
It scatters into mini explosions of pink, yellow and blue like a slap to the face, then into more and more before dying out. She slots the memory in her hippocampus like a polaroid picture in a phone case.
She’ll always remember how she felt even with such a pretty picture in front of her, the snap bringing her awake and out of her head, and the strength it gave her to give a true smile despite everything. She’ll remember it when the sadness fossilizes, when she forgets how to cry, when she'll be married to peace, and appreciate the quiet it holds. But for now, the fireworks still pop, sparking hope for better times.