——Friday, August 20th
IF WISHING UPON THE STARS DOES WORK, MARIELLE BELLEROSE WOULD WISH ONLY FOR THESE THREE SIMPLE THINGS; FOR HAPPINESS, MORE HAPPINESS, AND A MOTHER. Her wishes are relatively simple indeed, yet somehow, amidst the ordinary life of the seventeen-year-old girl, those three little things seem to be something beyond her reach. She sees them, she does, but it's as if they are chased away by something she doesn't fully comprehend. Certainly, it's suffocating to be surrounded by wishes only other people seem to get, and not being able to feel it—to experience it herself—hurts her like nothing more.
"She doesn't have much time left"—the frail voice of the girl grates against the window glass—"and I'm not leaving her to die without fighting for her. I'm not!"
"But what can you do Rosie?" her father shouts, "what can you do? you're only seventeen and-"
"And what, dad?" she yells as the stars of hope flicker in the depth of her heart, "and what?"
Her father remains silent.
The girl spares a glare, "I can't lose her too," the brown-eyed girl bellows, races for the door, and storms towards a destination she has yet decided on. Starlight bathes her jagged breath as the summer air drowns her lungs. The sky is dark and so is her head, swirling and twisting her insides like a host of thunderstorms. Why is it so easy for him to forget? she ponders, denying everything her father had said, to forgive?
Strangled by the blades of grass, she soon finds herself stranded on the very bridge that her mother used to love. Beneath, the river grumbles hungrily, and as she drags her feet to the very edge of it, a cool breeze caresses her dangling toes, perhaps lulling her name alongside the slight thumps of her own weakened heartbeat.
Secretly, she adores it too, and whenever she feels as if she'd lost the battle against the world, she would find herself here. Again and again and again.
Ironic, she would think.
"Was it also been easy for you to just give up, mum?" Marielle mumbles to the void.
She takes a deep breath and diverts her mind elsewhere. She tries her best to remember—to remember the faded memories she and her mum had shared. But she was only five, and even if she forces the good memories to ooze out, the image of her mother's lifeless body seems to forever cloud the moments in between. Even so, the brown-eyed girl often wanders back to the bridge, and especially on difficult days when she needs her mother the most, she swears she can hear her mother's sweet voice cascading through the water stream. Whispering her name, present by her side.
She steals a glimpse at the splendor of the night sky. The stars are twinkling, the leaves are dancing, and she begins to ponder ever so indignantly, How unfair it is for the world to be able to trick everyone to think that it's... beautiful?
The girl looks down, glaring at her reflection of auburn curls, tan skin, and red eyes that slowly resembles her mother.
"Mum," she murmurs to herself, wiping her residue tears with her sleeves. "I hate you. I hope you know that."
And suddenly, unfamiliar warmth takes hold around her wrist. Within seconds, her body is grabbed from the edge of the bridge and held inside the arms of a stranger. Like fire, like water, their breaths entwine and their pulse begins to beat in sync. And as she drags her head up, two bewitching emerald irises welcome the hue. To her surprise, however, she can't help but notice the sorrow and barely veiled pain engraved within. So odd, she thought, feels a bit too home-like.
Home-like?
She doesn't know it yet. Perhaps it's the night sky that's become strangely violet, or the river that's become a bit more hushed—or her lips, and her eyes, and mind that are suddenly parallel to such familiarity. Why does it feel as if she's remembering? But what is she remembering?
Has she met him before?—perhaps in another timeline, a different universe, a nonexistent existence? no, surely not.
Her gaze wanders down onto his high cheekbones, plush lips, and wavy black hair, ruffling swiftly by the night chill. Soft and tender with glosses of divinity and glittering stars. His ashen skin, as warm as the afternoon sun, strangely gives her reassurance and a sense of tranquility she's never felt before. And maybe she's dreaming, estranged in a fictional world she may have unknowingly created because really, everything seems a tad bit too unrealistic. His hands pressed against her hip bones, firm, the curvature of his masculine body is all that keeps Marielle grounded, and she—she feels her cheeks heat into roses, melt like dark chocolate.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the boy voices, language firm. Marielle jumps and pushes his body, snapping into consciousness.
Marielle gulps.
"Answer me!"—the boy shakes her body to consciousness—"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Excuse me?"—Marielle folds her arm across her stomach bewildered—"should I not be the one asking you that, you perv?"
"P-pervert?" he scoffs. Eyebrows furrowed and cheeks sucked.
"Yeah, pervert. Who in this whole damn world would suddenly do that to a stranger without any other motifs than being a pervert!"
"For fuck's sake—," the boy utters, and from that, Marielle realizes the misunderstanding sparked in between. For a moment the two strangers glare at each other, utterly dazed by all the things that have just happened.
"You thought I was about to jump," Marielle mutters more to herself, "did you?"
Chirps of crickets answer her instead, bittersweet honeysuckle in the air, and to her surprise, indescribable laughter escapes her lips. In some odd way, she somehow finds his worry adorable—the way he's rubbing his temples, dimples reappearing and disappearing, and how, disregarding that she's just a mere stranger, he still feels the need to- to do all that.
"And you think all this is funny?" he questions, "don't get ahead of yourself. If you were a fifty-year-old man, I'd still do the same. Have a good night."
Marielle Bellerose blinks and just like that, the shadow of the boy who spontaneously appeared from the darkness fades away. And as before, she's left once again with the silence of the night and the loudness of her mind.
⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆
YOU ARE READING
Tomorrow, With You
RomanceMarielle Bellerose, whose memories had been clouded solely by her Mother's death, can't exactly remember the sweet nights of her blissful childhood. Until Sebastian Choi, a boy looking for his birth mother, rescues her from drowning and unknowingly...
