Warning: this story contains very bad written drama, a little bit of tragedy, romance, senseless laws and highschool drama. If you haven't understood the story, read the comment at the end to understand the final plot.

I looked at my own reflection on the mirror, praying to be better dressed or able to wear more stylish clothes. I had always felt like wool stockings looked awful with brown shoes. I mean, like, seriously? Agh.

My hazel and always-so-soft hair dared to free itself from the messy bun I was aimlessly trying to tangle it into, with the knowledge of the petite bow already lost in my slender fingers. I let it fall to my shoulders and realized that being an eight-year old kid wouldn't mean I had to be already perfect - despite my mum often told me I had to, whatever - so I guessed I could be calm right then.

Her crystalline, yet rough voice called after me, telling me I'd miss my bus to school. I always hated to sit by strangers, who usually tried to throw up awkward chatting I wasn't really going to pay attention to. So I usually did fellow attempts to sit all alone, getting the advantage of being always able to let my bag on the second place.

I stumbled own the avenue to get to the bus stop, seeing my friends sharing words with a boy. I scratched my eyes lazily and walked forward. I took the opportunity to take a close look to the boy. He was taller than me - usually unusual, since I was a tall girl - and his hazel hair was a little mess, and I could easily tell that he had been through a though run to get here, since his face seemed flushed and his blue jacket was a little bit wrinkled. His chocolate eyes held a tiny shine of happiness despite the early hour, which instantly interested me to no end.

My friend Isaac stood still as he motioned to him, "Flora, this is Clive, Clive Dove."

Clive, so he is Clive Dove. I smiled, as he threw me a smile and I mimicked him. I'd make sure to remember his name from now on, reminding myself that the day would be brighter.

I unresistingly left my empty spot at the bus open and free for him.

{×}

My books failed stupidly to fit in my school bag as I push them deeper and deeper in the plastic material. I counted them, one, two, three, ten. Notebooks were all set up correctly, from biggest to smallest, my pencil case being at the front part. I put in my red apple too and went on to a good run.

I pictured myself blushing when I saw my 12-year old friend Clive - a year older than me I must add - smiling down at me. Dove looked understanding, "Did you sleep well, hazelnut?"

Hazelnut. That nickname always sent goose bumps throughout my entire being. But, everything said, I didn't like being compared to a hazelnut. I never got to guess where that came from actually, "You don't look like a mess yourself, Dove."

I saw him pout dramatically before Isaac and Marta interrupted us, "Whatcha' foolin' around about, lovebirds?"

I hated it when she put up those accents, "Nothing interesting."

I grimaced when the approaching bus I hadn't seen coming stopped by us, making a chilling sound that made our sensitive ears tremble. No human could handle that sound.

I stepped inside and set my bag aside to let Clive sit by me. I always enjoyed his company, not to mention that sitting by my most recent and longest crush sent butterflies to my stomach, "Feeling comfortable, Flora?"

"Eh?" I noticed I had cuddled too much into the seat, and realizing his teasing voice and a slight smirk, I instantly tensed up, "Although you look quite cute like that."

I blushed towards the comment and it seemed like he added the last part to cover up the other, "Sleep a little bit. It'll take half an hour to get to school. I slept a few times on your shoulder, right?"

I nodded vigorously, trying my best to act neutral at his sudden sweetness, "I don't want to arrive like a zombie to school. I'll try to stay awake..."

I found myself waking up in his arms after the ride and how everybody looked at us in wonder.

{×}

I hadn't felt the difference of age and the problems it supposed until I was in fifth grade and he was going to high school. I remember waving him goodbye in that sunny day that was 15th of June.

"He'll miss you, Flora." assured Marta, "He's told it to you three times."

"Yeah. Don't worry, it'll go by easy, Flora."

"Easier said than done, guys."

Easier said than done, I repeated in my mind.

{×}

My fist raised to the door by itself when I tightened my grip against my duck-sized enveloped present. Clive swung the door open and, interesting thing, he seemed happy.

"Oh, Flora!" he grinned like a child as he led me in, "Come in!"

The first thing that caught my eye was the big amount of handkerchieves thrown all over the room. I felt myself struggle slightly, "You invite me over to catch a cold, right?"

"I feel pathetic enough to get ill on summer... And in my birthday. Don't mess with me, Brownie."

"Well, I'll only give you your present then." I saw Clive stiffen his position with the statement, but I eagerly shook the feeling away and laid the present on his legs, "C'mon, I know you want to tear the lovely wrapping away, do it!"

He grinned like a lovely child and unwrapped the purple paper, "You- you got me-!"

Clive had always had something with football, known because he always tried to drag Isaac with him to any match he could - truth to be said, I'd love to go with him just to see him do his typical 'cheerie-oh' - and have fun with someone. But since Isaac obviously rejected any invitation for any event, he eventually joined the football club, and most girls drooled over him. That kind of brought me down, but it didn't matter, "Yep."

"Thank you! You don't know how much I love them!" he brought me into a bone crashing hug - from which I didn't want to get away from. It was pretty obvious he liked them, and just the look in his eyes said it all. He gave the eyes he would give to his lover. I wished it was me.

So, I dimly gave him a soft squeeze before letting go of him, "Hey, you'll be entering high school in September, huh?"

I grinned, "I am, why?" Clive got up from the sofa and came back with something on his hands.

He held my hands and chuckled again, "Take this."

I opened my fist and saw a light silver locket, with the shape of what seemed like a heart - or a peach, depends on the point of view - with my name girly engraved on its surface. It had a silver chain that danced by my wrist. I closed my fist and looked at him, sunk in wonder.

"I'm attending an art class at the moment... I found some spare pieces of silver in a box, and the teacher showed me how to manipulate them." he scratched the back of his head, "Do you like it?"

I vigorously nodded and threw a hug to him, which he returned gladly, "It's beautiful. Thanks, so dearly, Clive."

We chatted for a little while and I left quietly when he suddenly fell asleep, maybe for the illness. He still looked cute even sweaty and slightly snoring, I planted a butterfly kiss on his forehead and left quietly as a feather.

I thought deeply about the last hour as I walked home.

He changed my nickname, which meant he thought about me. The locket only proved what I guessed that was a manner of being friendly...

The butterflies went with me all the way home.

{×}

I looked at myself before going to bed. It was mid-spring, so I had decided to sleep in an orange night gown that got to a little bit before my knees. My hair rested undone, tangling aimlessly on my chest and seemed tangled, but I'd fix that the day after. My eyes shone brightly to the dim light of the lamp resting on my nightstand. The little changes had gone bigger after fourth grade. And I couldn't say I wasn't happy with the changes.

I smirked with a nod. Yes, I was ready to face him.

{×}

It was already time to go when I walked decided through the courtyard with Marta rushing by my side, "Flora, Flora! Are you sure?"

"I can say I am." a guy turned around when he noted my presence and Isaac let out a light laugh along his mate

"Hey! What are you doing here, girls?" it turns out I started feeling nervous, blood rushing my cheeks and my hands were getting awfully heavier. My right side of my mouth twitched as I tried to smile too much, apparently failing as Isaac smirked at me, "I guess it's Clive, right? He's-"

"At the corner!" yelled the other guy, with a clumsy voice that made me laugh, "He's there."

I ran towards the corner, with my own locket clutched safely in my hand. I stopped in my tracks, by a small tree and, before I wanted to, tears started to blur my vision with invisible dots.

He was kissing a girl. He was kissing a girl. My blurred sight identified her as the cheerleader captain.

Clive and Frida are on a tree, KI-SSING!

They are on a tree, KI-SSING!

HE IS KISSING FRIDA, KI-SSING!

The demonical chants echoed in my head as I got grip on my temples, the locket fell helplessly to the ground with a ticklish sound. I let out a contained sniffle as I ran towards the closest entrance, feeling how my system failed to make me run faster as I ran slower.

Marta called after me, but I was - surprisingly - faster than her.

Before I knew it, I was home, clutching my heart for dear care as I felt tears daring to go out. I heard my mobile phone ringing, to the tune of OneRepublic echoing in the walls of my empty house. I decided not to get it, giving up on anything I was going to do, and sunk in my front door, crying until I was damp with my own tears.

{×}

I admired - more like hated - my figure against the body mirror I always looked at. My small fists shivered faintly, my clothes and hair were a mess, and I realized that I was a mess myself.

He was a reminder of who I was, and sadly, of who I'm not.

I eyed myself again, suspicious of something out of place - apart of everything else - and saw at the corner of my eye how a small heart-shaped locket shone to the light's glory in my nightstand. I walked to it, decision splattered in my face, and threw it to a drawer nearby. I drew a hand towards my hair and felt the small knots. The sun was down - as my moral - and the moon was shinning.

I got my mobile phone and glanced down at the screen. It flashed - 24 lost calls. The number itself amazed me. I quietly sighed, and read the never ending series of names, tracing a finger across the screen,

Marta, Marta, Clive, Isaac, Isaac, Clive, Clive, Marta, Clive, Clive...

It was surprising how many times had they called, but I didn't understand why Clive called. The others may had told him. It was unknown.

{×}

It's getting harder not to look at him, and avoiding him when he calls after me isn't much easier. Isasc and Marta have already told me that he is trying to talk to me, but I always shake it off and try to look though.

It's known by everyone that he's going out with Frida. Well, I don't know really, but what Isaac says is always in everybody's mouth. He's such a gossip.

But anyway, I haven't talked to him since last month's incident. His place in the bus has already been taken, and he surely didn't mind to stay with any other girl of his grade, and surely drooling over him.

But I start noticing that his absence is getting dry into me, and hitting me like a weapon. He is a part of me, I can't deny it, but one that I really wish I didn't need. I love him, so much, but my love will always be mute, unsaid, unspoken.

Then it drowns me and I realize, he knows what's going on. Because the rumor has it and no one's there to deny.

{×}

"Flora!" once, "Flora!" twice, and I can't handle the urge to turn around, "Thank God, I thought you'd never talk to me!"

I flash him a flat, forced smile and he instantly knows what to say, "I'm sorry, although I don't know why."

I smile because he's so damn right, "I don't know why either."

"Then? Why so angry, Brownie?" asks Clive worried.

I giggle. But I deeply know that if I want to seem though as nails, I must seem indifferent towards him.

We agree to sign our peace flag. But I know that, deep down, he knows what's up, and it'll come up to me someday.

But it doesn't matter now, because he smiles and that's all that matters.

We walk away hand by hand, still longing for him to tell me what's really going on... even though I am the one who should really know.

God, I'm stupid.

{×}

"Don't insult her, you-" Isaac holds me back as I, so hardly, try to punch that guy on the face. How dares he to call Miranda-

"You know, it's the truth!" exclaims Martin. My friend Martin isn't one to insult, and obviously to one of my friends - which isn't really good to look at - that gets the best of my nerves. I am sick about that.

That's what Clive exactly calls me for.

"Don't get mad at him with things like this," he sighs, "He's not brightest. Let it be."

I sigh, mimicking his actions, "I know it's so silly, I know it's stupid. But I'm her friend! How could he do that? Does he like seeing me mad or something?"

He lightly chuckles, "I kind of dislike those things too. You know how much of a gentleman I am."

I let out a dreamy sigh, although I find it funny he thinks he is a gentleman after everything he made me go through, "Whatever you say, Clive."

"Brownie, I strongly believe you could go against him." I giggle, "I'm serious, I do."

"Hey," I glance at the clock, "Don't you have a date with Frida?"

That actually sounds bitter even for me.

"What?" I notice that he is pretending he hasn't heard, but I ignore it, "By the way, I need to talk to you-"

Clive gets interrupted by my mum calling me down, probably for dinner, "You tell me tomorrow, okay?"

I hear him sigh sadly, "Okay, see you tomorr- wait, tomorrow's Saturday."

I laugh sparkly as he stutters, "We can still meet, can't we?"

"Uh, ye-yeah. What hour would be nice?"

I tap my chin twice as I think about a good hour to meet him, "What about six? I'll have my homework done."

"That sounds fine, at Hobble's, sounds fine?" asks Clive as my mum's demanding to go downstairs get harder.

"Right, I have to go, see you!" I quickly hang up and I run downstairs.

{×}

"Clive, there was way too much people in there." I laugh as he stiffens his facial expression.

"I had no idea about that, but... I called you over for something." says he. I'd have said he looks nervous, but I let it slide,

Silence.

"Flora, I know you like me."

Then the storm.

I freeze in my place. He knows, he knows?! My world fades apart into millions of shards - don't get poetic! - as he smiles at me with pity, "I-"

"I'm not going out with Frida. I haven't ever laid an eye on her." that isn't as relieving as I hope, "The day she kissed me, I never meant to kiss her. I didn't, in fact."

"Wait. You knew I liked you," I say suspiciously, "and you instead let me drop myself over you, in pain, and you still act cool about it?"

"No! You're mistaking things!" before I know it, it starts to rain. Fine, and I don't even have an umbrella, "Flora, I-"

"No, you nothing, Clive. I'm fed up!" I say, getting up and feeling how my sunflower frill dress is sticking to my legs, "I would have gone down to your feet only to spend a day with you, I love you more than anything, and you see my pain, my love towards you, and you sit there still and watch me burn!"

I quietly see Clive grimace. My view of seeing things is really dramatic - even I realize that - but I can't help it. He is my crush, my friend.

"Flora, I'm sorry. But I was scared-"

I chuckle against his kindness with no humor, "Yeah, scared. Scared of what? You had everything done! You only had to tell me! I asked you a few times before, and you acted like nothing was up."

"Hey, Isaac was in too."

"Oh yeah, I'll get him after this. But you, you are the worst." I hold my face in disgust and I turn around to leave, "Have fun."

I gasp as he grips my soaked wrist, swirls me near him and I feel something cold in my palms, "I remember."

I free my hands from his grip and I observe the little object I had forgotten about long time ago. It was a silver, hear-shaped and bluish locket, with what seemed like a new chain made of copper, "How...?"

Clive smiled and I gently took a step backwards, "I picked it up that day and fixed it at home. The thing is, I tried fixing it, but I couldn't. So I only changed its chain."

My eyes lit up dimly, sighing, "Clive..."

"I'm sorry, Flora..." mutters he, "I am so sorry."

"I guess it's okay... I understand you don't love me back, so it's alright. I accepted it long ago." I smile and I turn my heel, "I'll see you, Clive."

I dedicate a last glance at him and see a bit of disappointment before he turns around.

{×}

I get home. Nobody's home. I am free to cry all I want.

I am such a crybaby, "Goddammit."

I sink again into the tiled floor, forgetting any task to do at the moment. I punch the ground and, still shaking, I regret any kind of thing I did wrong that gave me such a bad luck - call it karma, call it x - as I curse lightly to myself. I shiver, and get up bravely, going to my bedroom to change into my sleeping garments.

I find a mid-thigh white nightgown. I throw it on and find a semi-transparent bathrobe, which gives me a weird looking appearance. My body has grown, I'm fifteen and I realize that my mother has allowed me to have these clothes. I realize that it looks good on me also, but I prefer XL-sized t-shirts, which allows me to sleep good.

I go down, and the first thing I do is turn on the TV. I'm kind of numb after the breakdown, so I'll need some noisy motion to ginger up. Just I wish so much, ask for so much. I get a glass of cold water, from which I only have time enough to take one sip because the doorbell rings and it scares me to hell when people do that.

I hear a second knock as I open the door, in order to see Clive standing there, blushing at me. The last thing I want to see, indeed.

The next thing that catches me gets me surprised, "Cli-?" and he closed the door and, with a swift motion, he kisses me with all the might I think he can put onto it.

I instantly paralyze as his hands tangle in my hazel locks, keeping my hair away from any order. His other side is putting the sweetest into the kiss, trying to be gentle, but unexpected at the same time. I close my eyes fastly as he pushes me deeper into the room, maybe to be more comfortable - insert non-sense - and awkwardly cages me by a table that has nothing to do there. His hands are on the table, gently releasing me before my hands pull him in again. He eagerly accepts, sweetly biting my lower lip - teaser! - and I moan. Clive takes the advantage to push his wet tongue inside my wet mouth, which only makes me moan more and he chuckles with a smirk. I tease him too, pushing my own tongue inside his mouth, both exploring each other as a kingdom to be conquered, a land to be discovered. I guess he likes it. The kiss starts to heat up.

His hands travel from my slim waist to rest on my back-thighs, which made me open my eyes wide. He pushes me up to the table and his hands rest again on my waist. This is the first time I'm relatively taller than him, and he seems pleased. I hug him tight, his tongue and mine dancing in a quiet tango of lips and bites here and there. I feel him suck lightly on the outsides of my mouth, and he plants butterfly kisses along the length of my neck, biting a little bit. That, actually, made me yelp. He smiles as he kisses my cheek, and I can see he is missing my now swollen lips, because he is looking at them with passion. I bit his desire and he pecks my lips.

"I-" he is breathless, "I love-"

I shush him and I smile, "Take your time."

"Is your mum home?" asks he.

I merely wink at him, "No, she is out in a conference."

He kisses me again and I gladly answer, "Perfect."

I peck him, and in between kisses, I say, "What were you going to say?"

Clive also managed his words out, "I love you."

I tangle into another kiss. And, this time, I notice a sharp taste. It doesn't matter.

{×}

I groggily wake up to the sunlight. I find myself in bed, and I feel like someone is taking my cover. I realize he's there, sit up, and quite nervous if I say myself, "Hey."

"Hi." it's quiet for a minute, and I see Clive is gripping his head.

"Headache?" I get near him, and he takes a move back. Weird.

"A lot actually." he smiles, "Hey, Flora..."

I grin, "Hm?"

"How did I get here?"

And it gets to me suddenly. The headache, the sharp taste, the sudden amnesia.

He was drunk last night.

I shake my head, again, disappointed, "You were drunk, weren't you?"

It seems like he realizes, because he seems uptight, "Not that much."

"We made out last night, Clive." I sigh and I get up, flushing red as a tomato. He gasps and I grimace. I shake my head again, "Don't worry. I think I'm used to deception..."

He grasps my wrist, "Flora, sorry, I am sorry-"

"I said," Clive notices my coldness and instantly pulls away, "it-doesn't-matter."

I grab a sweater thrown on a chair and pull it over my body, covering my thorax down to my knees. I go out from the room and I can sense the weirdness in my own way of acting. This boy is surely affecting my way of being. I punch the wall and go downstairs, approaching the kitchen. I grab a slice of cut bread and put it on a stove that was resting on the tile from yesterday. As I start frying the bread I can hear an already dressed Clive sneaking into the hall, and quietly going out from my house. I sigh sadly.

Should I give up, or should I have given up long time ago?

{×}

"Does this mean you are sorry?"

I am sitting right here, in the same place we had sit a few weeks ago. I had been slightly noticing him a little bit... Under the mood. Clive and I hadn't talked for exactly 17 days. It is tense when we all sit and no one except Isaac and Marta say a word - they can't shut up - so it is a weird atmosphere. But here we are, fixing things.

"I am, Flora. I hurt you, I tried to fix you-"

"When did you even care?" I say carelessly. It is a cold sentence, but I have to let it out.

"Well, since the incident." Okay, now, I am truly confused.

"Explain, Dove."

Clive gives his head a good scratch and continued, "I wasn't drunk that day. I acted it out."

I bury my hands in contained fury, "Clive, get decided!"

"I didn't want to make things be weird between us. I thought about it, and I realized that there will be one year that we won't be able to see each other." I title my head, "I mean when I am 18. I'll be at university."

I roughly gulp. I haven't realized it, now I understand... I think, "So...?"

"The day of the incident I had told myself I'd do it, but the thing is... The nightgown..."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh...

"It drove me crazy." he strokes his locks and I blush, "I lost it, and you know how my hormones react."

I scratch my head, "Yep, I think I do."

"I meant everything I said. But I regretted it the day after..."

I laugh, "Clive, we didn't have sex or anything..."

He laughs too, "I know, I know!" I encourage him to go on, "But I lost it, and I panicked. I am so sorry for what I made you go through."

I smile and pat his hand, "Does that mean...?"

I get answered with a sweet kiss, "I deeply love you."

I chuckle before he says, "Haven't you heard that drunk people and kids always say the truth?"

{×}

You will try to fight the memories back as that slow song is banging in your headphones. It drives you crazy until no limit- you will rudely remove them with a swift pull as you skate with your orange rollerblades burning the road.

It will get to you that he's at university. He has told you to let the relationship rest for a while, to let it be like before. But you can tell he still loves you. But you'll move on. You'll eventually forget him as spring forgets winter.

But you'll get drown by your own mistakes. And you'll know you're sinking and that nothing's the same without him.

Your speed will suddenly quicken and, the last thing you'll see will be an array of light flashing from a black car. And before you eventually black out, you'll be able to see Clive rushing to your side with teary eyes.

{×}

Beep, beep, beep.

Your pulse will beat to the machine and the line will go up, down, up, down. Your best friend, possible boyfriend and maybe future husband will sit there, hands in his hair and Clive will look like a mess. Eyes with bags, glossy eyes and glossy eyes. You won't be able to see him on that moment, because your eyes are closed and you are unconscious. But that won't matter for him, because he will know you're not dead and you're going to be fine. So he will wait until you wake up.

And so you will. Your eyes will flutter open 'till your weak vision adjusts to the light of the hospital. And that will make you remember that you had been passed by a car - Clive's - and you have been taken to the hospital, probably by him. You smile slightly, but only because the sight of him makes you feel a little bit better.

"Brownie," you will find sweet he has called you Brownie, because he and only him can call you that, but it will break your heart when he starts crying, "I am so, so-"

You will so very lightly, put a shivering hand on his trembling mouth, "Hey," you will add, "it's going to be alright."

And as soft as you, he will lean into the touch, that has moved to the damp flesh on his cheek, "No, I am so guilty- I was literally flying to see you." he will interrupt himself, "And look at you..."

"Clive." you will sit up, very tense, "I've already said it's fine. Besides," you will try to smile, "I feel alright now."

He will gently lay you down again, "Flora, lay down."

You will pout, mutely thanking his kindness. You will notice how he mutters an excuse - which you consider lame, by no aparent reason - and Clive will answer the phone, which will have been ringing insanely.

You will look outside, and it won't be ignored by you that it's actually sunny and you couldn't be happier.

#

And now the princess gets up and realizes how much of a surreal dream she just has had.

The freshly locket Clive gave her was forgotten by a nearby drawer.

It gets to her that her right side is burning in pain, and she winces when she sees a good amount of bandages wrapped around her arms and thorax. She can't help to remove them. They're soaked in her own blood.

There was a bunch of fresh flowers by her bed, but she didn't care.

But, hey, the locket she gave him that he gave her back, it's gone with the wind.

She gets up, and sees a letter just by her mirror.

-Hey, Brownie,

It's me. I think you may not remember what happened to get you all wrapped like this, or I assume so at least. Well, we pretty had a bad hit going home. My car slipped on the ice and it seems like I couldn't make it through. I am on the hospital, but not in a normal one.

The cops knew I was the one who ran over you with my car... So I got to a cell once I was alright. Justice doesn't work well in this neighborhood.

I got a nurse to take care of you. I assume you are alright, and hopefully healthy.

I'll be out soon,

Love,

Clive.-

Dear princess lies the letter down and admires herself once again. Her body is now mostly uncovered, only wearing her bloody shorts and shirt. Her arms are the only ones that are completely covered.

She observes and sheds a tear.

That's when she sees.

She was like a princess, always trying to be perfect, quietly suffering and ending loosing the one she loves. But she doesn't forget. She hasn't yet.

She was a princess. A princess in rags.

And she wouldn't be able to free herself until Clive was by her again.

So little princess in rags cries again and the dry, sticky blood seems to dissolve into the salty waters shed by her pools of despair.

But she doesn't forget either. She doesn't.

That princesses in rags share drama wherever they go. So let's say...

That little princess will drown with her own blood to work hard and free her dear one from hell.

.x.

;end

.x.

For anyone that doesn't understand the end.

After Flora gets out from hospital, they had an accident and Flora is led home to rest after going from hospital again, but Clive is still in hospital. When he is out, he goes to cell for running over Flora, but he pleads for Flora to have someone to care about her.

When she wakes up, she sees herself and she removes her bandages in wonder. Her wounds aren't really closed, nor completely. She pictured herself as a princess (because she is beautiful and always trying to be perfect in her own story) in rags (because Clive is her freedom and Clive isn't there with her).

Purpose: reflecting feelings by changing time expressions: past as kids, present in agony, and future happiness to come into life. The dream action and changing on calligraphy is to say that nothing is as it seems and we don't have to take our happiness for granted.

Also, ahem, if anyone has noticed, it was over-dramatic. A concrete person saw me doing drabbles about this story and I told him everything, and he said that I could do this very dramatic so it would be longer. But I don't think that two accidents at the same story are too well...

Opinion: I considered I could make this based on real events, but I wasn't really pleased. So I did this very dramatic.

I liked how I wrote this, but I think I did it too complex :C

Inspiration: some songs,

#Why don't you love me, Demi Lovato feat. Hot Chelle Rae.

#Little Me, Little Mix.

#You Found Me & How to Save a Life, The Fray

#All We Are & Someone to Save You, OneRepublic

#You, Britt Nicole

#Just Give Me a Reason, Sam Tsui and Kylee (cover.)

#Seeing Stars, Sarah Howells feat. First State

Time set: 10 years more or less. Maybe 9. Change of seasons included.

Second purpose for this story: It's a project to present for an English work. It's more or less like a contest... But I don't think I'll get to present this since I don't think this is well enough.

Rate and review, icies.

Each review is another day i'll be in FF c:

Love you! :D

PD: I understand if you didn't like this. I'm not really happy with the results