D. Gray-man isn't mine to keep. This mentions boy love so don't like, don't read.
¤black¤
¤juliet¤
I love him so much, that my heart aches. It aches to tell him, to show him just how much. Not only my heart, my whole body yearns for him. My hand twitches with the want to hold his; to feel that calloused hands, the want to entangle itself within his red mane; sliding through it softly with my pale hands. My silver blue eyes wants to stare at his emerald ones, hoping to convey my feelings through it. My red lips tingles to feel his, needing to feel the chapped yet soft skin.
Everything of mine wishes for him, but that simple wish was broken, chopped to little pieces, stomped on and burned to ashes. How can I do all that when I'm so different; a burned-like arm, silver white for hair, a crimson scar on my face, and that...thing... that talks to me through the mirror. How can I when he only sees me as a friend, a comrade who shares the same fate as him; being a soldier of the Vaticans.
He never notices the increase of beats my heart gave when he tackle-hugs me, excitedly. He never notices how my smile becomes more real when he's in the vicinity. He will never understands how I still permit myself to be with him, despite his annoying behavior and knowing he only sees me as a friend.
I didn't know that a piece of my little wish was still present, until I found him and a another friend(?), holding hands and looking like the perfect couple; in spite of the usual brooding face of the other.
It's ironic how my chest still pound so much by his random glomping upon seeing me. His usual greeting of "Alleeen~" made me feel better slightly from the bitterness I tried to hide. Plastering my usual, polite smile, I greeted him and his....black-haired lover.
"Good morning Lavi."
¤The¤
¤End¤
This was made during my English period and I was bored.