"Kiss me." He picks me up and kisses me again.
His hands on my waist, my hands in his hair and my lips all over him.
I think I don't have a crush anymore.
I think i'm in love.
We break the kiss and he looks at me, "I'm so fucked aren't I my Val?"
︶꒦...
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Have you ever woken up to the sounds of birds singing and chirping?
I haven't.
Recently, my alarm has been Hanzo screaming for me to wake up because he's trying to learn how to dance... he got just dance for his kids.
No matter how annoying it may be it's sweet to see him he try, however today I wasn't awoken by him and I am frightened.
I tiptoe into the kitchen scared that someone might have entered in but no one was there. I grab the frying pan.
It's time to pull some Rapunzel.
I head around the house attempting to look for Hanzo however mission failed since I've found Demetrius standing beside a window glaring outside.
His hands were in his pockets and I can only see his back and dayum, the level of detail on that man's muscles, bleep me.
I wanna punch his back.
Bad idea.
"Hello." I mutter whilst looking at the ground.
"Good afternoon." He replies back. He doesn't look back at me and I feel a stab in my chest.
"I have something to hand to you." He looks at me with no emotion. His eyes an empty hole of darkness. He pushes the papers in front of me and the word divorce punches me across the face, I glare at him my mouth wide open somewhat similar to those cartoon scenes where their mouth is gaping open wide.
"I would never have considered you a comedian..." I whisper. He mumbles something and I grip the papers which had Mateo's signature bleeding through the paper. I shake my head practically begging that this was not the case.
I did not hate the idea of divorcing him and there was no love between us however it was the fact I failed at the one thing expected of me: marriage. My entire life I was forced to learn how to be a good wife and to perfect my skills in diplomacy in order to help my father in his business and yet the simplest task I have failed.
Tears begin dripping down. Each tear like a puddle staining the form handed to me I rub my eyes with my sleeve reluctantly shaking my head. Absolute hatred drowned my thoughts and my chest felt tight almost engulfing me.
I take a deep breath and remove any stress. I do not want to be weak in front of a man who possibly already thought so.
"Hand me a pen." I command. He swiftly looks at me as if my response confused him. Perhaps my confident façade actually worked.
