Hello there.
I carry with me a couple drabbles based on an alphabet drabble meme I caught sight of a while back.
It's a somewhat new experience for me, writing drabbles. And I know you're used to 1000+ stories from my tent, but I hope the change isn't a bad thing. My muse has been on and off lately and I think drabbles are the only thing that don't fall victim to my writer's block.
I do hope you enjoy them.
Please Note: None of these drabbles are connected. They are all individual timelines.
entry number one; the letter a - autumn.
you can tell he'll be there (for life)
pg-13 (k+), 392w
autumn has always been his favorite season, and her least favorite.
Autumn has always been his favorite season, and her least favorite.
He liked watching the leaves sway in the breeze to the hollow tune the wind blew. She hated watching the leaves fall to the ground and get crushed by everything and anything that crossed them. He liked the need for scarves and coats that he could wrap the two of them in, and he liked the way the browns and oranges of all her outfits complimented her skin so perfectly. She hated the way she felt so out of place in her usual pinks and blues with the back drop of the warm sunsets and drying earth, and she hated how none of her ballet flats seemed to save her toes from the slight chill in the air.
But this year, he despised it. He despised it as much as she had grown to love it.
And as his fingers traced her skin, he glanced at her closed eyes and thought of what she could have been dreaming of.
Her feet were firmly planted on a wooden stage with a bouquet of roses in her hand and green makeup covering her face, neck and arms. There were tears running down her cheeks and the brightest smile on her face as she waved at a cheering crowd, a crowd cheering just for her. And there was a ring on her third finger, glittering under the green and white lights, and camera flashes around her.
He lowered his gaze to her hand and his jaw clenched, his breaths not sounding as easy and light as they had seconds before.
He was somewhere in the crowd, cheering and clapping like the rest of them. And a tower stood beside her on that stage, his arm hooked around her waist and his face nuzzled into her hair as he whispered sweet nothings and promises of congratulatory dinners and a passionate tryst under the moonlight.
He gripped her arm a little tighter, his shoulders tense as reality set in.
"You're thinking again," Rachel says in a tired murmur, having woken from the squeeze he had given her arm. She knows it's best to keep her eyes closed.
"You do that a bit yourself." Mike retorts with a humorless chuckle, loosening his grip and wrapping his arms around her waist as she snuggles herself closer to him.