Heliophilia
(n.) desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight
To be loved is to be changed.
Arabella Dawson
Has never had anybody constant in her life. From parents always being away at work to one shitty friend, she doesn't know how to exist when...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
La douleur exquise (n.) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable
Twenty-two ♡︎♡︎♡︎ Arabella
"Hi." I whisper softly, trying not to startle the crying girl on the floor.
She takes her head out of her knees for long enough to glare at me and say, "Fuck off." Before curling in on herself again.
I take a hesitant step forward, wanting to comfort her but also not wanting to over step any boundaries or come off as overbearing.
I hate seeing people cry. Makes me want to cry too.
"Are you okay?" I twiddle my fingers in front of myself, watch as her shoulders shake with a sob.
"Do I look fucking okay to you?" She wipes at the smudged mascara under her eyes, but it doesn't do any good because she's still sobbing which is just causing it to smudge all over again.
Shrugging a shoulder I offer a tentative smile. "Stupid question on my part."
She doesn't reply so I take the seat next to her. Not close enough to have any form of contact but close enough so she knows I'm there.
"You shouldn't cry over him." I turn my head to face her, watching as she raises hers to face me, a confused look clouding her pretty features.
"You're way too pretty to be crying over a boy." I confess, stare down at my red converse.
Harley furrows her brows. I get the impression she doesn't know what to feel. I continue to blabber on, not really knowing when to stop. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't cry, because if you need to you should you know? You're allowed to cry obviously, but I dont know, never mind."
Nodding my head a little I stare at the tiled floor beneath us. Turing, surprised when she laughs.
It's a nice laugh. Not as menacing and hollow as the ones she released early. It's soft and almost sweet and reminds me that she's only a girl begging a guy to love her.
"Thank you." She wipes under her eyes again, this time it works because her sobs have reduced to barely there sniffles. "I'm uh...I'm sorry for what I said. Calling you a slut and stuff. I didn't mean it. I was just...jealous."
She stares at the floor, narrows her eyes at the tiles. "He never let me borrow his hoodies."
Harley shuffles a little closer. Leans her head on my shoulder. Which is a little awkward because she's taller than me but we make it work. My head resting on hers.
