theirs && his
-another moment gone-
--
{dancing amber eyes and warm tender smiles}
It's not her place to watch him make mistakes over and over again. It's really not her intension to edge him closer to where he belongs, and nudge herself a little closer to him without meaning to. It's really not what it may look like; tongues tousling and hair pulling.
It's an angry vicious cycle. The kind of cycle the icy, angelic amber eyed queen repeats like a mantra.
[It's really not her fault that she doesn't notice.]
--
{tightening kindled grins and winter blizzards}
The issue didn't begin at the foot of his. It was the kind of thing that could not be traced back decades and palmed in a hand; control was insincere and rare.
"This isn't right," she moaned. "But it's so right."
His freckles danced across the bridge of his nose, his eyes not meeting hers purposely. He glanced outside.
The peaks of the snow could be seen and the sunlight was dripping in with various colors seeping—it was like blood, each drop was more and more dangerous than before. The council of time; time that was indefinite and the main source of apprehension. It nerved the already wary, and shook the unsuspected.
[It isn't the problem that everyone suspects.]
--
{icy glares and letters}
The defeating screeches and deafening calls that were ringing in his ears. Everyone and any one was who he was searching for; anyone but all the same…no one. The awe-struck beady stares that knew nothing; only assumed and presented.
It wasn't a getting away desire;
But a nostalgic wanting to come back.
But he is not prince charming. He is merrily Derrick Harrington; popular jock who ruled the social scene of Briarwood Academy and won the hearts of many fan girls, infamous for his butt shaking and heart breaking lies. There was only so much skill that a fifteen year old boy could balance—perfection was out of the question.
He couldn't handle holding two hearts with his single broken one.
He was a player. And they were his pawns.
[It wasn't their faults that they never saw what he saw.]
--
{differing minds and heart aching smiles}
She stared with bright amber eyes.
The blonde was suspected to run away, sobs racking her small frame.
Amber eyes flash with a flat look overtaking the once joyous amber pools.
Blondie cracks a faux smile, shaking her head and looking away.
Amber orbs lock with your chocolaty ones.
Blonde fly away hairs reach out as she races off; choking on her very own tears.
Cold and swiped clean of emotion, she tells you off in true alpha-like fashion and saunters off; as if she never got hurt in the first place.
Derrick Harrington is not real. He is not prince charming and he is not some soccer-God. He is a fifteen year old boy who managed to finally tell the truth from his fickle-mouth. Derrick Harrington, top of the social scene, bottom of the honesty chain, was a fifteen year old boy who couldn't handle the peaks and endings of finally breaking three hearts.
Theirs.
&&
[His.]
Review.
-another moment gone-