-Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-A/N: Just a little one-shot I created out of boredom and the need to write something. Angsty Angelina/Fred. Because adding angst makes it that much better. Review! Thanks darlings!
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, watched him as he sat upright, the cream colored sheets nearly matching the shade of his pale skin. I gazed at his broad shoulders, his long fingers as they acted as a makeshift comb that raked through the strands of red; brighter than the stripes of Christmas candy canes.
I sat, my face frozen with solemn observance and inquisitiveness, my insides slowly crackling and freezing with an invisible frost, though my hands and lips were burning. The romantic that lived in the crevices of my tattered heart yearned to hold him. The bitter cynic that lived in my head wanted to find my clothes and walk out the door. Instead, the pacifist in me refused to move, allowing my eyes to once again travel the length of his torso.
We were young and stupid; truly believing that a kiss on the cheek didn't make our mouths tingle. But I'm not supposed to show emotion; I am not allowed to break down. I've been biting my time, following all the rules and regulations of our twisted game. You never say anything when you knock on my door. I never question your intentions because I've got them too; I never bother with the locks anymore. Your arms always provide heat but you abandon your place before I am awake and I greet the morning with a shiver of my shoulders and a curse on the tip of my tongue.
I can't take my eyes off of you. You've always known it and you love it. You mumble some weak excuse about missing your shirt and slide back into bed. I resist the urge to smile, knowing that it was only a method to steal a few more minutes. We are living our lives like outlaws; we're riding off into the sunset with stolen time. You could try to break my heart but it was never whole.
You clear your throat and move closer to my right side. Your hair falls in your face, over your eyebrows and I shut my eyes for a moment, to remind myself that the word clandestine never promoted true romance.
"Fred-"
But my question is silenced by a kiss; a nonverbal plea drowning in hunger and lust. It's still dark outside, the shades are drawn and I am closed off. The tips of your fingers brush my bony shoulders, I wish I could make you feel a shred of the storm I constantly brew inside. My mind turns to jelly, my senses turn inside out. You always have that effect on me; I always expect the worst of you.
Drowning out the best in me to thrive off the adrenaline of the worst, crush me baby, like you do, like you do.
