𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊

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" and you'll be my favorite mistakei  wish you could hold me, here shakin'you're the risk, i'm gonna take it "

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" and you'll be my favorite mistake
i wish you could hold me, here shakin'
you're the risk, i'm gonna take it "

RISK - gracie abrams

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INTRODUCTION

As Cordelia followed her uncle down the cobblestone path, the young boy sprinted after her, his voice echoing through the narrow alley. "Wait!" he cried, desperation coloring his tone. Behind him, his father's stern call rang out, urging him to stop. Ignoring his father, the boy pressed on until he reached Cordelia, who had come to a halt and turned to face him.

Breathless, he stood before her, eyes wide with a mixture of hope and sorrow. "I'm sorry," he murmured, catching his breath. "Will I ever see you again?" His voice wavered, though deep down, he already knew the answer. Yet, he clung to the faint glimmer of hope, the knowledge that her uncle worked in the district providing a fragile thread of possibility that their paths might cross once more.

Cordelia's lips curled into a gentle smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes as she shook her head ever so slightly. "Probably not," she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of playful skepticism.

A sigh escaped the boy's lips, his disappointment evident as he replied, "I thought so."

"But I had a really fun time. Thank you," Cordelia added, her fingers still clasped around the small bouquet of flowers he had selected for her. Despite her tight grip and the relentless wind, the delicate blooms had already started to wilt, but Cordelia paid them no mind. 

Cordelia stepped forward with a slight hesitation, her heart racing as she gently wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him into a warm embrace. For a moment, he stood there, frozen in surprise, before the realization set in, and he returned the hug, his arms hesitantly tightening around her. The earthy scent of the outdoors clung to her, a natural blend of fresh grass and damp soil, but beneath that lingered a faint hint of citrus—subtle and soft, with just enough sweetness to be noticed but not overwhelming. It was calming, almost as if her presence carried the essence of the earth itself.

"You're welcome," the boy replied, a shy smile gracing his features as a rosy hue tinted his cheeks.

As if on cue, Clover's voice rang out, breaking the moment. "Let's go!" he called, beckoning Cordelia to join him.

Cordelia turned to the boy with a warm smile, a silent farewell conveyed through the gentle wave of her hand. With a graceful pivot, she began to make her way toward her uncle, who appeared to be waiting for her with a stern expression.

Meanwhile, the boy remained rooted in place, his gaze fixed on Cordelia's retreating figure, his thoughts swirling with unanswered questions and lingering emotions.

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