limerence | COMPLETED

10

WHEN SHE OPENS HER EYES, THEY'RE STANDING ON TOP OF THE WORLD.

Layla yelps as she gapes down the edge of the cliff, her attention transfixed on a stone that falls down when she knocks her foot against it until she can't see it anymore. He laughs musically next to her and pulls her to him.

"Stop looking down, look up!" he urges.

Dragging her eyes upwards, Layla gazes at the beauty around them in awe, taking in the blue sky painted with pinks and oranges and reds and the way a flock of birds slowly dance their way across the painting above them. She doesn't know where they are but it's absolutely beautiful.

He's beautiful, she thinks, watching the way his eyes take everything in and the way the warm orange glow of the sun enshrouds him like a blanket, highlighting the slant of his nose and the height of his cheekbones.

"Even if you feel like everything is falling apart, always look up at the world around you," he says with conviction. Layla gazes up at him and he smiles her favourite kind of smile. "But if I ever feel like that, I always look at you. You're the world to me, Layla."

And he's the world to her.

She smiles sadly. "But what do I do when I can't look up? What do I do when I can't look at you?"

He looks down at her, his eyes piercing.

"Then take a leap of faith instead."

***********

Layla sprints up the steep hill the next morning without stopping. After spending the entire night tossing and turning thanks to the tightness in her chest, she woke up earlier than normal and instead of trying to go back to sleep, she just threw on her running clothes and headed for the door.

She spent a little bit of time sitting in the clearing for a while, lost in thought as she stared out at the fast-flowing river, but the tightness still wouldn't leave and the burning urge to run had only intensified, forcing her to stand to her feet and move along the forest trail once more.

Her dark brown hair has grown a little longer over the past month and it wildly swings back and forth as she climbs the endless hill to her house, some of the strands sticking to the damp skin of her nape while her heart frantically beats against her chest. Her entire body burns in protest, begging for her to stop and breathe for just a second please, and she can feel her lungs clawing at her throat for air. It's this exact in between feeling that she craves whenever she runs. Which is kind of how she always feels. Stuck in between.

The hill finally comes to an end and she practically stumbles through her front door, messily kicking off her shoes by the entrance. Outside, it's still snowing and the white snowflakes that haven't already melted on her hot skin now do thanks to the heat inside.

She clumsily climbs up the stairs to the shower and after turning on the water until it is lukewarm and yanking off her sweaty clothes, Layla steps inside, exhaling out when the water falls against her shoulders and skin. She tilts her face upwards and the water washes over her. Her sweat tastes sour against her lips. It's been a long time since she's run as hard and relentlessly as she has but it feels good to have a change of pace.

Reaching for body soap, she douses her body in the creamy liquid before grabbing a white loofah and scrubbing herself clean, causing her skin to turn a bright red. After washing her hair and finally reaching a state that she can call respectable, she turns off the shower and steps out onto a towel.

She avoids looking at her naked body in the mirror. She'll only hate what she sees.

"Layla, is that you?" Gerald calls from somewhere in the kitchen once she comes downstairs. Despite her run, the pressure on her chest still hasn't let up at all and the last thing she wants to do is deal with her father.