𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒆𝒅 | 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝑴𝒂𝒏

12| 𝑼𝒏𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚?

♛┈﷼┈┈•༶

My legs were crossed with my back relaxing against my seat, sitting in the middle of something that imitates a small living room. I mostly watch the games here, it's much more calming.

The big screen ahead of me shows the players starting to sit down on the platform. But my eyes were solely focused on a small, fiery girl.

I was truly entertained in the overseer room, watching this girl's jaw snap at almost everyone. But I'm impressed, because she knows when to show her fangs and when it's best to seal her pretty lips.

Not everyone has this ability to control themselves but to also be courageous enough to show her opinions on certain topics.

She was absolutely designed to impress me and anger other people. And she looks like an angel through it.

My square calls the first two teams out, and a humorous grin spread across my lips as I watch and hear Esmeray sing a certain line after my square repeated the instructions to stand up.

„Please stand up, please stand up, please stand up. Cause I'm slim shady, yes I'm the real slim shady. All you other-" Her own snort cuts her melodic singing off, ducking her head and giggling quietly to herself.

I chuckle before I took a sip from my whiskey, without my eyes lifting away from her face. I love watching how she's mostly living inside her own world, how someone could give her a simple hair clip and she would be entertained for hours.

After dinner, she would always busy herself with her water bottle. She would place the bottle over her eyes and imagine herself under water, and she would laugh at whatever is crossing her mind that made her laugh like that.

There's a certain beauty in the way her inner child is still accompanying her so vibrant, how she is just lingering underneath the surface. Esmeray has an innocence around her frame that makes people think low of her, it makes them try to take advantage of it.

And I enjoy it, since they allow me to watch again how she proves them wrong in a, literally, breathtaking way.

I watch her in contentment, my heartbeat in an unusual slow rhythm as she brought my whole being to melt into my seat.

I took a big gulp from my liquor, the ice clicking against the glass and close in touching my lips. I put it on the table beside my seat before I place my elbows on my spread legs, watching the screen intensely once it was her team's time to fight.

And just like that, she got my heart out of it's trance and began racing and thudding wildly against my ribcage. I knew already that she was safe with another player on the team, but there is still the possibility of the unknown.

Once they walk out of the yellow elevator, I can see anxiety making it's appearance known in every edge of her face. It must be hard for her to know that the lives of the opposite's team lay inside her hands.