Forces (of the Universe)

Nick and Rosie have known each other forever. They are opposites that somehow keep colliding. Between their sibbling's romance, Rosie's serious boyfriend, and living hundred of miles apart, it seems as though they'll never have the chance to be together. Fate and luck have other plans. *Yikes, sorry I can't get the spacing to work!


1. Fall Together

In the beginning, when God created the universe — when he created day to be full of light and night to be blackness, green land and blue sky and raging sea, plants that sprung up from the ground and animals to walk on it, the sun and the moon and the sparkling stars — he too created Adam and Eve. And they belonged together.   The very first beings on Earth, however they came about, were made for each other. Minds made for each other, bodies made for each other, humor and lips and hands and intelligence made to fit the other.   Rosie would say, when their stories were almost all over, and oftentimes throughout, that she and Nick were made for each other. That they were fate.   Nick would say that fate didn't do them any justice. He would say in the end, and many times before, that he must have picked up a lot of lucky pennies in his lifetime. That Rosie was the best thing to happen to him, and the most unexpected.   They were like that, and maybe it's why it took them so long to fall together. But the best way to make sense of either of them was to describe the other. Because Rosie was the sun and Nick was the moon, and Nick was the light and Rosie was the darkness. Nick was the land and Rosie was the sea, and they were perfect contrasts, so sharp and different that they almost defined the other.   Rosie was quick to Nick's careful. She was loud to his calm. A puzzle piece doesn't fit it's duplicate but instead fits it's opposite.   She believed in fate. He believed in luck. She believed in God; he didn't. She almost believed in second chances, and he almost gave them every day. She was confrontational. He was conversational. She was emotional, and he tried not to be.   They weren't all that different. After all, lines that intersect are going in completely different directions, but still cross. They were both born in the month of December. Each of them loved the beach. Their favorites deserts were chocolate cake. They liked long walks. They had learned to play the piano, and then forgotten.   And they knew each other, of course. They loved each other, for most of their lives. Nick loved Rosie because she did everything everyone said they would and then forgot about. She was direct and growing. She leaped. Rosie loved Nick because he was kind. He listened and was still. He didn't talk behind anyone's back, even if he was mad.   And they loved who they had known for forever and ever. Since before they were born. Since their mothers were pregnant together and would go to all the restaurants half a mile from the yellow house, licking their fingers and laughing. Of course, Rosie was born first. Rosie had to be first at everything. She had to be early at everything. She was born three weeks before she was due, on the third instead of the twenty-second. Nick was born a week later, exactly when he was supposed to be.   When they were both born, and baby Rosie was still in the hospital because of how small she was, their mothers would hold them together and rock them in big chairs. Sometimes they would lay the babies side by side, and baby Nick and baby Rosie would squirm and kick and cry. Rosie had known him for all but seven days of her life, and Nick had known her for forever and ever.   They grew together. Not often, but enough that they remembered each other even when they were small. Once or twice or three times a year. Usually at the yellow house. They celebrated their birthdays over Christmas. Rosie would make everyone sing to her first because she was oldest, and Nick didn't mind.   Their sisters had gone before them. Bella and Jo were beautiful and fresh faced and looked good in white. They dressed alike whenever they were together, and moved the same way, talked the same way. They were as similar as Nick and Rosie were different.   And Chris had gone before them. Looking like Nick, with blue shiny, kind eyes and a furrowed brow. His mouth was more playful than Nick's. He was teasing and twinkly. Nick and Bella and Chris all looked the same, really. They were plain with striking eyes and dark brows, darkish blonde hair that waved and curled up at the ends, light skin. Rosie and Jo, the smily sisters, were less alike in appearance, but made up for it in personality. So Chris had gone before them, and Emerson and Parker had gone before him.   Before Emerson and Parker, there were their parents: four sets, two of them brother and sister. Before them were their own parents, grandparents to Nick and Rosie and Bella and Jo and Chris and Emerson and Parker and Emmett and Vic. Some of them had lived together in the yellow house long, long ago, when they were all alive and unmarried and without children and practically kids themselves. They were each other's family.   And so Nick and Rosie were family. That was how it worked then, and it was how it worked now. They had always been, before they even knew they were. And so long after their mother's were pregnant together, and long after they were born, and long after their first Christmas, Rosie and Nick began to choose each other. They kept choosing each other, long after they had to, long after they were supposed to, long after it made sense to. Rosie and Nick chose each other even when the yellow house was sold and even when they were no longer kids and even when it wasn't winter anymore.   Adam and Eve never got to choose. Adam and Eve were literally, fantastically made for each other. Rosie would say that she and Nick didn't ever have to choose because they were made for each other. And Nick would say that choosing each other was the only reason they were anything special at all.

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