❝My youth; my youth is yours.❞ - Troye Sivan.

The indicators on the running machines struggled to sync with the speed of their conveyor belts, the sniggers of a boy and girl echoing through the gymnasium as each running machine was turned on and adjusted to its highest speed.

Sprinting and jumping over each one, Beck and Bronwyn leaped hysterically as they raced to the ends of the gym continuously, Mitch Henderson laughing from the sidelines as the two best friends raced eachother with determination.

The sun gleamed in through the oversized windows on the Eastern side of the large room, signalling early morning, early Saturday morning to be exact. Training on Saturdays usually dragged for the pair as Summer was always a jovial time to dare and dive into swimming pools in back gardens that didn't belong to either of them; a tradition they'd developed.

Mitch loved their spirit and perhaps it was favouritism, but scolding the two was a definite rarity. And as he clasped his hands in laughter at Bronwyn who slipped and was sent flying all whilst erupting into laughter at her own misfortune, Beck's first instinct was to run for her in slight concern.

The gymnasium echoed with Bronwyn's, Beck's and Mitch's laughter as Beck reached out his hand, causing a few officials to scorn their faces in distate through the window of the corridor as they passed. She accepted thankfully, momentarily gazing adoringly at Beck before she rose to her feet, attempting to laugh through the sudden agony in her backside.

"Are you alright lass?" Mitch stifled another laugh as he approached the two, having risen from his seat.

"Yeah," she whipped playfully before grimacing, "no doubt I've bruised my butt."

"I told you your technique was a death trap," Beck held up his hands in defense as she stared boringly, "Hey now Bread Bin, I'm not the one with the bruised ass."

"Language Christopher Beck!" She quickly mused, nudging his shoulder as she gazed across to Mitch in fake disbelief, "did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did-" Mitch countered before adding, "Bread Bin?" in confusion.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes playfully with a laugh before making her way across the gym to retrieve her bag, "her name is Bronwyn, it just rhymed I guess," Beck replied as she pulled her arms through the straps before then shuffling it onto her shoulders.

"Let's hope that dies before you go to Mars then, eh?"

Bronwyn stifled another laugh as she approached, "we're only sixteen, he'll have forgotten it about it by the time we go most likely."

"I don't know, ten years isn't all that long."

"Bread Bin," Beck's gentle voice slowly aroused her from her sleep, causing her to slowly lift her head from his shoulder. Being evoked from her slumber, she pouted slightly before shuffling to sit up right.

"There best be a remarkable reason as to why you've woken me up," she grumbled softly, her voice thick with a rasp as she slowly gained consciousness.

He laughed softly, "Watney is calling you."

She opened her eyes begrudgingly, closing one in regret as the brightness of the observatory room attempted to blind her. "Fine," she grumbled before giving Beck a final hug, to which he nuzzled her hair before planting a gentle kiss.

At the motion, her eyes widened before her expression slowly contorted into less of a shocked one to a content one. She smiled before climbing to her feet, urging herself to climb up the step ladder to Watney's aid before a final wave and laugh at Beck. Dork.

"I think we're doing this wrong," Bronwyn acknowledged as she entwined her hands with Beck, who was laying on the floor, before bracing for him to lift her with his legs.

"There's probably only a few ways you could get killed doing this, don't stress," Beck laughed as she adjusted her position. "Ready?"

"Not exactly, what if we-" she suddenly yelped as Beck held her up like superman from the ground with his feet, the two instantly breaking into an undying laughter at the entire fiasco. 

"Beck!" She protested through her fit of laughter, "I never confirmed I was ready-"

"-Stop squirming!" He laughed as he realised she was ticklish.

"-Beck your foot!"

"Bronwyn stop-"

In a heaping mess, Bronwyn collapsed onto Beck through his foot slipping from her squirms. Hysterically, Bronwyn raised her head from Beck's chest to laugh harder at his winded face.

"Shoot Bronwyn," he grumbled, "knock the air right out of me why don't you-"

"-Admit it or deny it, you love me" she joked, collapsing back into him which widened his eyes again.

"Sure would if I could breathe."

Trekking through the dwindling hallways, Bronwyn dragged herself to the suspected place Watney could have been. Her suspicions were nonetheless proven correct as she spotted Watney sitting at the table in the kitchen-style area, and the thought itself drew a small smile to her sleepy face.

"Did I wake Satan from her sleep?" Watney questioned as he became aware of her presence.

"Well you summoned me here for a reason accordingly," she retorted before joining him at the table, "and if it's not worth my while, you'll have upset the Devil."

"Then in that case," he enthusiastically cut in, "Isn't it a good thing that it is worth your while."

Bronwyn stared on for a moment, expectantly but only for him to not instantly reveal his reason. "Well go for it," she encouraged.

"You've got a video message from Jonathan," he replied, "It ended up in my inbox, must have been a mistake. Can you send it to yourself? I'd hate to steal your fiancé from you, I have my girl Ella."

"Oh, right," she replied dryly, "well, I'll have something to watch whilst I'm bored later then right? I'm not in a rush, thanks though," she replied before rising back to her feet, intending to go spend time with Beck.

Watney inwardly smirked, gleaming in achievement, "sure thing."

"Beck, Mitch, I'm nervous-" Bronwyn squeaked as she fumbled with the hem of her overall. "I've never spoken infront of a crowd before-"

Beck instantly cut her off, "Bread Bin, I'm sure you're going to kick ass. You'll smash it, and if you're nervous just look for us in the crowd, we'll be there."

Her stomach pooled with dread and anxiety, "oh no, Beck no I can't- stop, I can't go on that stage. I might just vomit everywhere and everyone will laugh."

"Bronwyn, quit that," Beck held her shaking arms tightly infront of him to make her face him, "everyone gets nervous but it doesn't even matter if you roll across that stage because people are here because they love you and want to talk to you, not to see you fail."

"No, Beck I can't, I promise you I can't-"

"Bronwyn, you can, you're not a quitter so go on, get out there," Mitch calmly reassured her.

"No, no, I'm going to be sick-"

"-Do it for the lols," Beck murmured before he helped nudged her to the opened stage entry door.

"Beck, this isn't funny."

"Nope it isn't because you're going to smash it and you're holding back, that audience is of 18 people. I know each one, watch now-" In an instant Beck darted across the stage and into the limelight before she could snatch onto his shirt.

The audience fell deadly silent as he made his way to the microphone, a mischievous but thoughtful expression on his face. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach as he glanced across to her.

"Okay, so," he began glancing back to the small audience, "my friend Bronwyn is a little, --alot-- nervous so just don't be too heavy, this is her first time. Bronwyn, come on out-"

She glared, before sighing.

"I really honestly hate you-" she mouthed before making her way onto the stage, the audience clapping for support as she stood beside him too.

"Love you too," he whispered gently in her ear, which gave her momentous chills. As he jogged off the stage, she gulped before timidly turning to her audience, "um, hello."