Everything is different in my eyes because I've lived a thousand different lives.
We had a fun day. I found that reason enough to run away.
'Cuz that's what I do—run.
It was after the Ferris wheel, you see. And I wouldn't take it back for the world.
Blond hair back to black, smooth skin back to scarred, tight clothes back to baggy.
The little bit of Cameron Morgan replaced wholly by Cameron Carter.
I felt claustrophobic.
Still, I didn't stop running anyway.
I didn't stop at the school, where the halls were vacant. I kept pace to the music room, where I've spent the last week in the dusty vent above.
I had to know if it was true
The notes are the same. So is the clock that's frozen on 12:24.
I sit in the far corner where he'll most likely not see me.
I wait until I hear footsteps approaching and I know the school has loaded back on the bus and has found a winner. I don't care, though.
As the knob twists and the door opens silently and quickly, I watch.
The music wafts through the air immediately after he sits on the piano bench and gets comfortable.
He wasn't lying.
I think he knows I'm here, watching, even though he hasn't made a single move to acknowledge me. Not even a single side-long glance.
I remember his laugh and smile that I squeezed out of him by the arcade.
I have to make sure that he doesn't know that was me.
Or else I think everything might change.
I left. (After he did, obviously)
A quick, smooth, coordinated departure. No strings attached. No words fell out.
Until the training room was under me and Liz was punch hard, fast punches that had improved overtime. Her posture was sloppy though, and we still needed to work on her techniques.
I don't know why but I have to help this girl. I know she is going to go through something soon and if she doesn't have enough emotional or mental strength to go through it, I had to give her some physical.
I drop down to the ground but she's too concentrated on her punching to notice the soft, intentional pat of my feet hitting the ground.
Her short blond hair, too small to put into a ponytail, flies around her face.
I call her name and she jumps then corrects her posture. A minute later, the punching bag goes flying.
A/N. Ew so short. I know guys. I apologize. But… I posted this because I won't be writing for a few days due to the fact that I will not be communicating with my beloved computer (which I have given plenty names to) tomorrow so I thought I might as well give you this. Also, on Tuesday, IT'S EIDDDDD FOR ALL THOSE MUSLIMS OUT THERE READING THIS, WOOO! PRISE THE LORD~
Random Fact: I find it hard to do a test or homework without talking in any way. Whether it be singing, chatting or doing nonsense, I feel like I have to do something. It drives people nuts.
May's Out.
Reviewing would be nice. Yes, reviewing would be very nice.