an early holiday present for: sydney, maddie, maya, sophie, hannah, raine, amy, ange & kiera (if you're actually reading this)- all the people who make it worth staying here on ff (it would take me forever to write you all separate fics that actually don't make your eyes bleed, so i'm going to be lazy and dedicate it to all of you). they're all amazing authors and even better friends. i love you guys so much.

s l o w d a n c e . w i t h . t h e . s u n r i s e

*

So paint your face up something elegant
And this time maybe a darker shade of red
Cause a long night means a fist fight
Against your pillow and my pearly whites

*

stickysweetcinnamongloss, broken amber, endless disappointments

( i look under the tree // but there's nothing to see cause it's a broken heart that you're giving me )

Sugar frosted nails sink into the plush silk and tear through, leaving a jagged streak- a flaw on an otherwise flawless page.

How ironic.

Wrath is all too easy to conjure for you; it's no surprise that all you see is rage red and twisted green envy because everything that's rightfully yours is gone. The anguish returns and all you can picture are the two of them, pale fingers clumsy and entwined, auburn curls spilling past his stained pink cheeks- a vision under that damned mistletoe. Millions of insults find their way to the tip of your tongue, but they're stuck there and you can't manage to say anything- just choke on your unsaid words and run away, tripping over your patent leather Manolo Blahniks and the glimmer of unshed sorrow smarting your amber eyes.

[ You know he's never really belonged to you ]

But you can pretend and lift the flask of Sangria to your bee-stung lips and take a swing with a mumbled, "Merry fucking Christmas", alone.

empty promises, bitter reality, sweet dreams

( I know you've been hurting but i've been waiting to be there for you )

Life is like the soundtrack from Romeo+Juliet, you muse, trailing your bitten fingernail along Leonardo DiCaprio's gorgeous jawline plastered onto the plastic case. From the chill but crazy indie-vibe of Radiohead's Talk Show Host to Quindon Tarver's powerful gospel baritone in Everybody's Free (To Feel Good) to The Cardigan's mellow acoustic-rendition of Lovefool, it was brilliant musical flow at its peak, sparking emotions that left you breathless. Life was like that. Sure, maybe the pieces don't seem to fit together at times, but as a whole it's radiant in nature and you'd have it no other way. And sometimes you even fantasize yourself in Claire Danes' totally bangin' angel costume, lips pressed against Leo's swoon-worthy mouth, undiluted effervescence shot to the vein.

But instead you're the one with the chocolate-stained, snowman-patterned Old Navy sweatpants and baby blue Aerie thermal camisole that barely protects your already goosebump-covered skin from the Westchester cold that's seeped through the jammed window. And this whole night felt more like a #1 Crush moment. Too bad you couldn't change your last name to Danes. Or have a special someone to curl up with on Christmas Eve.

From the chipped, sticker-covered desk, your dull blue Nokia flip-phone vibrates with a new text.

New Text Message- From: Josh Hotz

hey clairebear :) christmas eve sucks without you- i'm coming over w/hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies. don't move. i'm on my way.

And suddenly, the night doesn't feel so cold anymore.

terribletwos, beautiful mistakes, twinkling gold lights

( you're the one mistake i really didn't mind )

This was so wrong. So completely, totally, utterly wrong, you couldn't help but feel that this was how it was meant to be.

Fiery curls cascade past your pale freckled shoulders and he picks up a curl like it's a strand of gold and twists it gently around his finger, pulling you closer until you see every gold speck in his warm caramel eyes. He plants a trail of butterfly kisses along your jaw and you can't help but sigh and let your gold glitter-covered eyelids flutter shut with pure bliss.

You're scared that he'll drift back to reality and pull an Edward Cullen- pushing you away with a "This is wrong..." and return back to the safety and the glamour ("and the boredom," he had snorted when you voiced your fear) of his previous relationship. But when he gazes at you like you're a transcendent firefly- delicate and precious and wonderful- you know he'd never do that to you.

The two of you aren't perfect- far from it really. But when his hands wrapped securely around your slender waist and your head is resting on his chest and the flickering flames of the fire dance and blaze with an intensity you've never appreciated before, you feel perfect.

recklessdaringfreefalling, technicolor twist, bleeding lies

( lose myself in a chemical moment night life's taking its toll )

Pink-streaked, inky black hair falls in crimped waves past your bare alabaster skin exposed from the tiny off-the-shoulder silver sequined dress you said you would never be caught dead in. You sway your hips rhythmically to the pounding music in the background, head titled back to reveal the tangle of vintage chains that look strangely regal against your stark white neck. Eyes- the color of roughly chopped celery- outlined in thick peacock blue glitter and mauve lips curved into your signature half-smile that just screams mystery and cynicism- who could resist?

With that hot kid with onyx skater-boy hair (and one green and one blue eye, which, beyond awesome, is pretty damn sexy too) checking you out with a devilish grin, your mind buzzed from the alcohol and ridiculously expensive edgy getup, who would suspect that you were Slow Layne as Massie Block snidely dubbed? You smirk as you think of the bitchy "Alpha" herself, who would probably kill to be present at your brother's Christmas Eve rager, attended by all the A-listers from Briarwood-Octavian Highschool dressed to the nines, partying their brains out.

You're pretty sure they make MTV reality shows about this kinda stuff- food-obsessed, bottom-feeding loser by day, alluring rocker chick by night.

So what if your parents ditched you and Chris to rekindle their romance with a honeymoon to Fiji (they don't want to spend time with you), or that Chris was probably passed out in bed with some nameless girl (even he doesn't give a shit), or that the penthouse was going to be a total wreck by the time everyone left (you surround yourself with unimportant people to try to push away the loneliness)?

Hot, dual-colored-eyed boy makes his way toward you and you drop your heavily lidded eye into a wink, smirk playing at your glossed lips.

Time to party.

[ The lies you tell yourself can wait ]

chocolate hair, angels, moments like this

( don't be no fool when loving is all there is )

She giggles drunkenly even though you know she's far from actually drunk- she's only had a couple of eggnog's and a huge slice of yule log cake- she's drunk off the feeling of Christmas, with her glazed-over eyes and infectious smile. Relient K's rendition of Sleigh Ride plays softly from the speakers as she lets go of your wool glove-covered hand and pirouettes on the ice, luxuriant raven waves loose from the icy wind and cheeks flushed pink.

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling
Ring-ting-tingling too
Come on it's lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you

You watch her spin under the twinkling glow of the ruby, emerald and gold lights stung across the trees, emitting a strong glow. But none of them even come close to her own radiance, with that scarlet cashmere sweater sliding off her bronze shoulder and her coal-black lashes heavy with tiny crystalline snowflakes. You wish you could somehow commit the vision to memory, but you grin when she closes her doe-eyes in ecstasy and know that there was no way you could ever forget moment like this.

i am aware that some of these (or all of these) did not make sense. but hopefully you'll review anyway? :)

happy holidays, everyone!