One thing was for sure Paris liked Kurt more like loved him but love is off the table for Paris. It was easy to see why, friends from birth...well Paris was born February 21st so since then but both admired each-other. Paris could sing, play the guitar, and make art, Kurt could do the same.
The silence filled the air under the bridge besides the humming of Kurt and the scratching of the pencil sat in Paris's left hand hitting the paper softly line by line that Paris drew it made a girl or a woman with the left side of her face being a broken shattered heart.
"Whats the picture about" Kurt asked Paris as she made the last couple details
"Her name is Innuendo and she can't hold someone for to long or something with out it breaking from her lack of self-respect" Paris replied always naming her art after nothing that relates to the story.
They both looked at each-other before packing up there things and running to Kurt's house.
"Holy..fucking shit" Paris said reaching Kurt's house .
Kurt looked at her and smiled
"How long since you ran that far"
"Me, running..never heard of her"
A checky smile appeared on her face
"I can't deal with your sarcasm" Kurt said, hand's still placed on his knee's
"Actually I'm impressed with how fast you ran, Eiffel"
"I'm not"
"Why..oh right..mirth isn't your thing"
And there they stood panting from running so far, forgetting thing about each-other and being dumbasses.
