[DISCONTINUED]
"is that so? you really hurt my feelings, beanie" she heard dream say in the discord call.
beanie.
what, what the fuck. wait, wait, hold on- it has to be- it cant- it's him?
oh god, it's him, holy shit.
the voice, the "coincidental"...
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" qui vivra verra "
[french]
"he/she who lives, shall see." -
[ — ㊕๑.✶✧. ⊹ᝰ. ]
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"what is exactly the thing you wanna tell me, greenie?" the black haired 15-year-old girl asked the dirty blonde boy standing infront of her.
the blonde laughed lightly at the nickname, "you're still calling me greenie?"
"yeah! i mean, you really wanna embody thomas from the maze runner," she said, "even though you're not even brunette," she added, laughing, "and besides, i like it for you. it suits you."
the boy hummed fondly at the statement.
"what were you gonna tell me again?" the girl asked a second time.
he sighed, "i just- what if i dont want you to leave?" the boy mumbled, voice whining.
the girl also sighed, sadly, "you can not want me to leave, but i can't do anything, you know that. mom and dad have made their minds, i cant convince them otherwise."
"i know.. i know.. i just," the blonde sighed, shoulders faltering down and slumping, " i'll really miss you, beanie. so much."
"you can always try and call me whenver we're both not busy!" the girl smiled genuinely, and hugged the boy by his torso.
"and, just- just remember the phrase, okay?" the girl, who was significantly shorter than the other, mumbled through the boy's hoodie.
the boy furrowed his brows, until his memory lit up, "what phrase?"
"that phrase that my dad always told me when i was younger, and it stuck on me so i started saying it to you whenever you're worrying or distressed? remember now?"
"oh- oh yeah! yeah, yeah, sorry, i remember now," the taller boy laughed.
the black haired girl fondly laughed and lightly smaked the other's arm. "repeat after me: qui vivra verra." she said, french accent pretty rusty.
"qui vivra verra." the boy repeated, laughing, pronunciation not that good, but atleast he's got the spirit.
"god, that's so cringy-"
"-and cliche-"
"and cliche!" the girl laughed, letting the tears flow as laugher fades down.
they both knowingly smiled, bathing in each other's warmth for what seems to be, the last time.
"mahal kita, clay," the girl spoke, words softer than coulds.
"always remember that."
"mahal din kita, crimsyn," clay said, with a suprisingly good tagalog accent,
"i'll always remember."
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