Paper Planes
A pink-haired girl sat alone in her room, on a Friday night, again. She and her friend would be doing something, but the teenaged girl was acting really weird, and said something about her cousin needing help. But the green-eyed girl wasn't dumb, she saw the bruises. She knew her only friend was being beaten mercilessly, right now, as we speak. Or, considering where the marks were, being sexually assaulted.
Now that she thought about it, she really was a terrible friend. She was just letting that happen? Really? That ball of cuteness had enough on her shoulders, what with her dad beating her, and all.
But, then again, she had no control over anything, not in her friend's life, nor her own. Her dad did the same things to her, and she guessed that's why she and her clicked. They were two peas in a pod, just alike, they were. Maybe not in appearances, but in personality, and situations.
The green-eyed girl had defended her from bullies, one day, knowing just what it was like being made fun of, and having no one by your side, no one to tell you the horrid things people say don't always have to be true. From that day on, they were connected at the hip. As easy as that, she gained the raven's full trust, and companionship. Some might say it was pitiful, the way the raven-locked girl clung to her, but if you went through what that girl did, than you would, too.
She sighed, looking out the window from her spot on the only wooden chair in the room. She sat with her legs brought up to her flat chest, arms securing them. She rested her chin on her knees, she really hated herself.
In all honesty, she didn't know why. She had someone who loved her, to no end. She had a mom and dad, who cared for her, and paid for her needs. She had a best friend, who was willing to do whatever for her, no matter what.
In all honesty, she knew exactly why. She had a person who loved her, even though she didn't feel that way, but instead, her friend did. She had a dad that abused her, just like her pupil-less friend. She had a friend she didn't deserve at all, and who deserved so much more.
The girl with emeralds for eyes sighed again, those emeralds trailing to a shiny object on her bed's side-table.
It was only two feet away, so close. She could just relieve her pain, so easy. She could just throw her four and a half months clean away, so simple.
But she promised the indigo-haired girl she wouldn't, so perfect.
So, as a substitute, she graded the blank sheets of paper next to her silver medal.
She couldn't draw for the life of her, and in no universe would she ever be able to write poetry, but she could fold.
And, so, she did. She didn't know how to fold much, just paper-planes, but it was something that not only could pass the time, but could take her mind off of things.
Twenty-seven sheets of copy paper, a run down stairs, and sixty-three more sheets later, little miss cotton-candy-hair was staring out the window again, tiny, little planes made of paper surrounding her, scattered all over her grey carpet.
She sighed again. She must have had some sighing problem, if she kept sighing like that. The very thought made her sigh. Which made her face-palm. Which made her sigh. Which made her scream bloody murder. Which made her sigh. Which made her get really frustrated, so she started folding more planes, grumbling about how she was pathetic. Which made her sigh.
In the long-run, she ended up running out of paper, and almost loosing her voice from screaming so much. She was left with nothing to do, so she stared out the window, yet again.
She was glad her parents weren't there to hear her, and her dad beat her for being so loud.
She let go of her legs, though keeping them bent, and ran a hand through her long, pink hair. It's style was the only thing she and the petite girl shared, the only exception being her's was wavy. Well, she and her dearest friend were both pale. Kind of.
The teenager pulled the fallen strap of her white sun-dress up to it's designated shoulder, forcing herself to not sigh, that would end up starting another one of those battles for sanity.
She studied her black cowboy boots for a minute, as if daring them to be scuffed, have smudges, or even have gum stuck on the sole. And, cowering in fear, they showed no signs of imperfection. Good thing, too, otherwise she'd have to beat them up. And, with those last few thoughts in mind, the pinkette feared she may have lost the latest battle. She almost sighed, too.
She turned her head to look out the window, when a red-haired boy burst through her bedroom door, crowbar in hand, ready to swing, looking like he just got out of bed, his face determined and angry.
The green-eyed girl screeched at the top of her lungs, falling out of her chair. The boy, on the other hand, just looked around, and sighed, putting the crowbar down.
Just as the she was about to yell at him for breaking in her house, and tell him not to sigh, it would only start her own sighing war, he asked, "Why the hell were you screaming?! I thought you were getting killed! Goddamn, woman!"
Oh. So that's why he came in like a maniac! Makes enough sense. "Well, I kept sighing." He gave her a weird look, but questioned no more. Once he got a good look at the room, he picked up a paper creation of the weird chick. Why the hell were paper planes everywhere?
And, as if reading his mind, she said, "It's a substitution." He could guess what she was in need of a 'substitute' for, based on her tigered wrists, and the silver sheet on her table. Go figures.
She thought he would leave. She honestly did. But he stayed, the whole night. And he did the next night. And so on, and so on. And he folded paper planes with her.
A girl with green eyes, and a boy with a kanji tattoo on his forehead sat in a wooden chairs, across from each other. They were both looking out the window, alone together on a Friday night, again. Their mutual friend would typically be hanging out with them, but she was acting really weird, and said something about having to give her friend a ride. But they were not stupid, they saw the smiles and faraway looks. Their friend was in love, and on a date, right now, as we speak. And, considering the looks a certain silver-haired, and magenta-eyed boy was giving her, on a date with her soon-to-be boyfriend.
Now that they thought about it, they really were great friends. They were letting some boy within a fifty-foot radius of her? Really? That ball of cuteness was going to have a lot on her shoulders, what with her moving out with her little sister to the pink-haired girl's new apartment, and all.
But, then again, she had some control in her life, and in both her friend's. She moved out of her dad and mom's, and she guessed that why they clicked. They were like three peas in a pod, just alike, they were. Maybe not in appearances, but in personality, and situations.
Everything changed for them, it seemed, though things were exactly the same. They had a routine.
The girl sighed, and so did they boy. They most have some sighing problem, if they sighed at the same time. The very thought made them sigh. Which made them face palm. Which made them sigh. Which reminded them of how they met. Which made them sigh. Which made them pick up a couple pieces of paper, and fold paper planes, mumbling about how silly they used to be.
Which made them sigh. Which made them laugh.
In the long-run, the ended running out of paper, and almost loosing their voices from laughing, and sighing so much.
They were left with nothing to do, so they stared out the window, yet again.
They had don this a many time, but then something, something so un-routine, it would make her cringe.
The boy with dots of seafoam for eyes throw one of their many paper planes at her.
She was angry at first, for it hurt when the sharp point hit the back of her head, but she saw writing on the inside. So, like any curious girl would, she unfolded the paper. It said, "I love you".
At first, she couldn't believe he threw it.
But, he was right there, so close. He didn't even have to say anything, and get tongue-tied, so easy. It couldn't be mistaken for different feelings, it got the point across, so simple.
And she felt the same, so perfect.
She threw it back at him, once she refolded it.
He looked at her weird. Why the hell was she giving it back?
And, as if reading his mind, she said, "I'm returning your feelings." He could guess what meant, it wasn't really hard, she just had a funny way of doing things. Go figures.
She thought he would leave her. She honestly did. But he stayed with her, the whole year. And the next year. And so on, and so on. And he folded paper planes with her.