puppy love
or,, we were young and terribly naive
beckjadebeckcat
au ; in which universes are two
UnIvErSe OnE
She rests her head on his shoulder, hand in his. "I love you," Beckett Oliver says.
"You shouldn't," whispers Jadelyn West back.
"Too bad you're stuck with me then, huh?" he says, and she would scowl if she wasn't already kissing him, her lips otherwise occupied.
"Too bad."
.
"I love you," he whispers sweetly. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He's repeating it like a prayer - or maybe a curse - over and over.
Shut up, she wants to say. Shut up before I make you. But she doesn't. She does not understand this boy, who he is or what he is. They have been "dating" - what an obscene word which does not describe anything - for not even a week. Yet he loves her.
(He loves me. He loves me not.)
She doesn't say it back.
.
"Tell me you love me," she demands. He does. She knows he will.
"I love you."
"Keep telling yourself that," she answers.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're smart; I'm sure you can figure it out."
.
He brings her coffee one day. She, like she does any other day, scowls at the cup. "This isn't Skybucks," she says sharply. "Buying me crappy brands of coffee, are we, Beckett?"
"I'll be back," he promises, taking her cup away and whisking away the imperfections with magic.
"Don't forget the whip," she says quietly.
He hears her.
.
He walks into her life bringing order and perfection.
She stomps into his leaving chaos and disorder.
.
This is a world where the ice queen loses herself, the dashing prince refuses fire for something much different, and the damsel is distressed is forgotten in shadows.
UnIvErSe TwO
Hey, you, Caterina Valentine says brightly. I brought you a cupcake. The perfect white icing contrasts with the red (redredbloodred) velvet.
Thanks. Beckett Oliver wraps an arm around her (hisgirlhisgirlhisfreakinggirl) and kisses the top of her head. It reminds me of you.
That's why I bought it for you, silly.
He sticks his pinky in the icing as if to taste it, but instead plops the stuff onto her nose. Gotcha.
She giggles, and he whirls her around in the air - just them; just them in a lonesome, lonesome world.
The boy sees brown hair and a scowl, but thinks nothing of it.
.
It's just us, he says.
Just us in our perfect little world? she asks.
Sure.
.
This, now dears, this is the world in which nothing is as it seems. Innocence is anything but, and royalty cracks under broken facades. Nothing is (perfectperfectperfect) here.
.
To Be CoNtInUeD