Your Type

20 6 0
                                    

slow burn [] | second chance []


♪ 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼  𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰  𝓯𝓸𝓻  𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻  𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 ♪


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'just wanted something that's familiar'


Staring down at the note in her hand, her hand shook. Not in anger, not in sorrow, but in realization. The beautiful Manila white card that was bleeding with ink, ruining the beautiful handwriting.

The water that stained the sheet wasn't tears, in fact, it was a substance purer and clearer than anything in the world.

Rain.

She had run through the entire school to get to her locker and braved the rain back home.

The gentle, open, honest words danced across the page, yet there was no liquid in her eyes, none at all.

Only a spark of light and nothing else but an empty void.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered. "I did it again." Sighing, she stared out of the window, the rain pelting down vigorously in a rhythm only she could decipher.

She grabbed the guitar next to her and strummed a couple of chords, shifting her hands into a more comfortable position against the familiar indentations of the fingerboard frets.

The cool metal sent a ghost electrical wave down her fingers and into her palm, where a paper cut, thanks to the card, still sat, freshly open, a wound that she hadn't yet managed to heal.

Without quite knowing what she was doing, her fingers moved on their own accord, playing a familiar, haunting melody, one she was all too closely acquainted with.

"And we're right back where we started," she whispered, her words brushing off the walls gently. The echo in the room was almost studio-like, perfect for recording and singing.

Willowing in sadness and talking to yourself? Not so much.

She slumped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the handpainted star constellations.

"Why do I always find myself falling for the same type of people? I know people have a type, but damn, why do I always fall for the painfully sweet ones?"

A peal of gentle laughter lingered in her ear, teasing, almost taunting her.

She checked the time on her phone; she had just under three hours to get ready. Shutting her eyes tightly, she blacked out entirely, dreaming of white light and a glass box.

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