First Post Do I Get A Cookie? - Tumblr Posts
Everyone has those childhood stories of lavish summer vacations consisting of beaches, foreign countries, cruises, and fancy resorts, but not you. Your summers were filled with open fields, sweet tea, climbing trees, and Touya Todoroki.
Long days were spent ripping and running through the fields of your family's acres. Scraping your knees and bruising your elbows. Touya always had more scars than you, most from events you hadn't witnessed. He was always sent home with extra ointment and bandages from your mother, who never asked questions but instead gave long hugs and lots of fruit. You always felt like your parents knew something you didn't.
Hanging upside down from the swing your dad made out of an old tire and rope, the grass looks like it's growing from the sky. "Do you think when we're older we'll go to cool places for the summer? Like India, or something." You ask casually, your head turning to face an upside-down Touya.
Half preoccupied with picking at his bandage, Touya hums and thinks for a bit before focusing his attention on you. "Only if it's just the two of us; family vacations are overrated."
That's right, it's easy to forget Touya comes from money when you two are out in the grassy fields with dirt underneath your fingernails and grass-stained shirts. He's been coming out to the country for three summers now; apparently, his dad's idea is that he needs to focus on other things and be a normal kid. You think it means he's becoming too materialistic; your grandmother says it's because Touya has a troubled home life, never getting too many details out before your mother speaks in a strained tone to not discuss those things around you.
Your smile is soft, as is your voice when you speak mostly to yourself, “Yeah, the two of us is just fine.”
—
Traditionally, Touya always ate dinner with your family on the last day of summer. The long table would be decorated with all the harvests of the season, plus enough yeast rolls to feed the masses and milk from the best cow on the farm. His leaving for the school year always left you devastated, but these dinners filled with laughter, full bellies, and his promises to see you next summer always lightened the mood.
“My doctor says milk makes your bones stronger,” Touya declares after chugging his third glass, a milk mustache to match his fluffy white hair. You can’t help but giggle at the sight of it, telling him to wipe his face. “Hey, one day this mustache will be real!”
But that day never came. Touya left that night, and he never returned. Not the next summer, or the following, or the one after that—and eventually you grew up and stopped waiting. You never saw his white mustache or congratulated him for taking his father’s position, like he always rambled passionately about. You don't know if those things ever happened for him, but whenever he crosses your mind, you wish him well, wherever he may be.