Hello there... well i don't know if this is a good angle to go by but i think it works. I hope you enjoy it.
Classic
He sunk deeper into the overstuffed arm chair he had occupied every Friday night for the last seventy years. Ever since Gone With the Wind had been made his Friday nights were spend watching " the classics", as his younger brother called them. Not that he really minded. Being dead for nearly a hundred years gave him the chance to do just about everything, so eventually just sitting at home became a main enjoyment.
Gone With the Wind, Casablanca, The Way We Were, Pretty in Pink & My Girl, he had seen them all. A million times in fact. And the fact that he didn't mind watching them did not mean that he liked them. He just couldn't grasp the " beauty" that they portrayed. Oh yes, he understood they were about love, but so what? They also were about wanting what you couldn't have and heartache. And heartache sucked.
It seemed that even these perfect people couldn't make it work. Everyone got hurt somehow.
Rhett left Scarlette. That dude in the trench coat made the chick get on the plane. Streisand just had to look on as her man married a dame better than her. Sure that Duckie get that hot chick in the end but all he wanted was Molly Ringwald. And worse off, that little boy in My Girl died! How ironic is that?
Death was a bitch in many forms. He knew that first hand. He came off as a cruel uncaring bastard but he too had loved. And lost.
But that was life………. That was classic. There was always something more, someone better.
So again he sunk lower into the overstuffed arm chair he occupied religiously every Friday night for the last seventy years. But instead of looking at the TV he turned his sharp violet eyes to the corner of the room where a beautiful brunette sat with a blue eyed boy. They were not watching the movie. They were watching each other. The same kind of passion burning in each others eyes that he had seen time and time again in every movie imaginable.
Watching them he couldn't help but loathe the classics. Because he would never have love. He would never have her look at him with such passion. He would never have her. The only thing in life and death that he really wanted. But he still sat. Every Friday night. Not because he liked the movies, or even because he wanted to relax. No he came because he wanted to pretend, even for a moment, she loved him as much as he loved her.
" Oh yes Hubble, your girl is beautiful"
Anyways that my story. ... Hope it was as beautiful as i saw it in my head.