Despite the title, this isn't a story about a treehouse.
This is a story about love.
This is about two people who allowed change and fear to ruin something beautiful.
Letting years go by,
Only to realize that they should've fought harder for the o...
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I smiled at the light pink sky, the setting sun in my view, as my feet dangled from the edge.
The caress of the wind against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine.
It's a chilly Sunday afternoon, and I'm sitting in the treehouse to get some time to myself.
Yesterday, was a lot of fun and I'm glad I went, but now I'm unsure what this meant.
I knew what I wanted, which was Myles in my life again, but I don't know how to go about it.
Lost in thought, I almost didn't hear someone else coming up the steps.
A creak of the steps made me turn my head down, coming face to face with Myles.
My heart clenched at the sight of him.
He was wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, but what caught my attention the most was his face.
His jaw was clenched in anger along with his fist, his eyes were hard and slightly red, so I can tell he was crying earlier, and his lips were pulled into a frown.
Moving aside, I made room for him to step in.
"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was going to be here," His voice was low and raspy, his eyes not making contact with mine as he took a seat beside me.
I decided not to say anything, giving him the space he needed.
An air of comfortability surrounded us as we watched the sunset together.
After a couple of moments he was more relaxed, his shoulders no longer tense, and his fist unclenched, giving me a clear view of his bruised knuckles on his right hand.
"Did you get in a fight?" I asked taking his injured hand and placing it into my lap to get a better view.
I tried not to get distracted by his stare that seemed to be burning holes on the side of my face.
Seeing that it was just light bruising and only needed an ice pack, I place his hand back on his lap.
"I punched my father,"
I felt myself still at his words my gaze meeting his hard stare.
Snapping out of it, I simply nodded my head in response.
I didn't push for any more information knowing that his father was a sore subject for him.
"Mhm, you should probably put some ice on your hands, to reduce the swelling," I said changing the subject.
I started getting ready to move, but he placed his hand on my own making me freeze in my spot.
"You're not going to ask why?" He asked, brows furrowed.
"Nope, when your ready you'll tell me. Besides, I'm sure he deserved it," I said giving him a small smile while fighting the urge to push the black strand that fell in front of his face.
