𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 -bob dylan

─ 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬 𝘬𝘯𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"robert, where's my dean martin that i asked for?"

twelve o clock had never seemed so navy. the sky was illuminated by the ticking seconds that were to swiftly pass by and the cars that swarmed them were only a flash of accelerating movements. he took a glance at her, his sight sharpening at the visible clarity of her grin.

"it's 12:01 babe, dean martin only plays at night time, it ain't night time yet," his motions were clearly impulsed by his sprouting awkwardness, which he hadn't meant to be so obvious. he patted her shoulder, the way he saw his friends do the same to him when he let his hopes and dreams out of the cage he called his mind.

she looked at him, so significantly, that he now, in fact ,could name all the splattered hues that roamed within her irises, "that word you used, 'aint, is not in the dictionary." she retorted, her tone idle and somehow her gaze softened.

his shoulders shrugged as they always did when he wouldn't even bother to argue. this perhaps, to her at least, stung more than any words ever could. he didn't have the compassion to even fume up a fire. nor did he have the compassion to fuel it. 

"it's quite cold out."

weather was a common go to when he was at loss for words. this time it wasn't because his eyes were overwhelmed by an alluring attraction nor was he at loss for words because of something that seemed humanly impossible. he simply he had no words because, he wanted no part in her plucked conversation.

maybe in the moment they both told themselves it was a subconscious gesture. but looking back now, her moving her hand onto his- the one that was still placed on (and furthermore, caressing) her shoulder -was a rather risky move that she decided to partake in.

"i think it's more warm, i'm shocked you don't think the same."

his hand explored her back briefly and chuckles were at bay of his lips when he felt her skin prickle. his hand traveled to her other shoulder, his arm lacing the one he had left behind.

"i don't always have to agree with you, princess. but trust me i like to."

as he predicted upon knowing her for too long, she whipped her head to his, her eyes enlarged and pupils subtly dilating, "princess? that's a new one."

he shook his head, bringing his lips up before pursing them, painting a canvass of him deep in thought. she chuckled lowly, almost silently before she quieted down. 

when his eyes flickered back to her, he could see she had trapped herself in a daze. mindlessly she looked at him, eyebrows softly furrowed, complemented by the youthful creases between them. her finger lightly raised and drifted towards his chin, brushing along his jowls. that were also a sign of his adolescence— unlike what the many teachers as school told him. to her, it felt like something from the fifties, when they were only children and were flying in freedom rather than drowning in responsibilities. 

"uh they're just bumps, sia, you're kinda freaking me out now-" his chuckle was artificially nervous.

she didn't snap out. well, not yet anyway.

her eyes never twitched at the loss of his caresses and nor did her shoulders shudder from the escaping comfort. her finger was still tracing the delicate bumps, her touch lighter than the screeching sparrows feathers.

her finger fell into his palm, the way his mind sorted it out to play. her subtly twitching knuckle was greeted by a drifting sensation her mind couldn't comprehend. it was clear, the sight that was unfolding in front of her now perplexed eyes, but she couldn't take away her personal fog. his eyes met hers, stinging so powerfully she almost felt trapped back into her mid-day daze. 

the silk that clothed her knuckle felt unreal. ethereal. sensational. better yet, it was a felicity that she hadn't felt in- years. 

once his lips had waved and muttered their salutations to her now quivering finger, he looked into her. not at her, but rather his attention was focused on those same creases, yet not the ones imprinted between her eyebrows.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙