Could Mean Everything
AN: Just a little drabble-ish thing between my time of doing No News Is Good News (I promise to update soon!). Favorite couples Troyella and Chaylor after the after party (set just after the movie, basically). I used a slightly…more..or less identifying style for this. (I was actually just using this as an experiment for describing things.)
Arms draped casually created a hold and a sense of security beneath the warmth. Curtains were hardly drawn to keep the minimal moonlight at bay; shadows cast across the walls were long from the midnight hour that pressed forward steadily. A reckless night led to an exhausted set of friends.
Soft breath barely caused her chocolate curls to tremble from the movement. The light of her brown eyes was long gone as the very eyes were lightly closed, almost looking as if she could wake on a minute's notice. His blondish locks were thrown back messily with his neck craned over the back of the couch's worn fabric. Her cheeks were tinged just the faintest shade of pink; this from natural reasons rather than a dabbing of blush. One side of her jaw lied against the side of his chest while both arms strung around his hips to have fingers mesh on the opposite side. He had a hand resting in the dip of her side, fingers rising and falling with each slow breath she drew.
Oppositely the full couch, another two figures took up a recliner meant for one with room to spare. She faced away from him with one arm strewn over her middle while the other was limp before her. Legs were bent and barely curled into her figure as one of his had come between hers; two sets of shoes, one a set of casual flats that didn't exactly fit the formality of the dress for the night, while the other was a glistening pair of silver heels that contrasted dramatically against her dark skin. His dark tie rippled over either side of his neck as if there had been a fuss to pull it loose. The image would have been flustering in the conscious mind, but sleep gave a bow of innocence here. And also notable: the arm nearest her had found way through the nook of her figure against the angled back cushion, hand barely holding to her limp fingers on the other side.
Morning light that would come to grace them the following morning would be an interesting one.
Though not too far away in the dim light of an eloquent bathroom was the blonde. This girl, who had held an act of entertainment the entire night while behind her mask stood a cracked ego that had crumpled to feeble jealousy. Knuckles strained white clamped at the edge of the marble counter, the veins under her skin mimicking the numerous darkened cracks of the rock beneath her fingers. Tears melted the supposed waterproof mascara that had been layered to her lashes, this bringing new blackened shadows beneath her eyes. Bitter shame and resentment towards the new 'happy couple' held her from looking to the mirror; what would she find after all? The same old, same old with a new unfortunate twist--reddened whites didn't go well with her bright irises. Instead she sniffed loudly and stared down at the counter as yet another gray tear muddled with the other dozen in the space between her palms.
Where there is happiness, another is always left grieving.
