*Destry's Point of View*
The pure childishness of the situation was inevitable. The lopsided goofy grins on The twins faces, Des's Disheveled Green hair.
A wreck.
Asher and Emelia certainly musnt think fondly of us.
I eye our group, as they throw back dares and truths.
I roll my eyes, arms wrapped tightly across my legs, and gaze out the window into the bleak night.
I choose not to indulge myself in their childish endeavors, simply because I am not a child.
Mentally, at the least.
Adolescent activity seizes to amuse me, only displeases.
Let them have their fun. I think, bitterly.
I turn to gaze at the five of them sitting on the King-sized bed nearest to me.
I met Emelia's eyes, and for a brief few seconds, we held our Gazes at one another.
An electric current dazzled itself through my veins, spontaneously errupting into my system.
She gave a warm, gentle smile.
I felt myself warm, and returned with a small wave.
Turning away, I sigh.
What the hell is wrong with me...?
Its been a mere six hours I've known the damned girl.
I shouldn't see her the way I do. We've had a hastily two conversations, and even then, those contained a total of maybe eight sentences.
No, this isn't supposed to go like this.
I mentally smack myself, my subconscious crossing his arms, shaking his head disapprovingly.
I think too much.
Then again, this assures any mistakes.
I bring my face to my delicatley fringed, lime hair, and tug gently at the bangs feathering my forehead.
I needed to get myself in check, soon.
Besides, look at her...
I briefly glance at her, her sweet tender smile radiated around her, her laugh a perfect harmony.
What wasn't to like?
OhI dont know, the fact she's practically a stranger? The devilish subconious sneers.
I roll my eyes. Fair point, well played.
But who would want someone like me...?
A gloomy, arrogant, antisocial unprioritized mere adolescent, who can barely sustain his own life, let alone the weight of a relationship?
Who am I kidding.
NO ONE WOULD.
YOU ARE READING
With Death Etched In My Heart
DiversosI'm that guy you see, alone. The one you call Emo, a fag. To everyone, I'm just that waste of space. No one knows me. I paste this act onto myself everyday, but its all fake..... Asher, a seventeen year old boy, with the worst case of depression an...
