"You are poison to me, but I love how it hurts."
Sebastian and Skye met only months ago, but their story has only started.
A couple months ago, Sebastian and Skye finally told her parents about their relationship... but there was more to the story t...
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Skye
I'd been running and crying for hours, it felt, and after a while, I stopped by a park near town, and I sat under a tree, pulling my knees to my chest as I buried my face in them.
My body shook as I cried, the cold wind biting into my skin and slicing chills through me.
My nerves felt like needles... my skin so cold.
And Sebastian wasn't here to comfort me.
I cried harder at the thought, the sounds of my sorrow echoing through the night.
It'd been like this for a while... and I didn't know how long I'd been here when I heard a voice:
"Skye."
I shot up at an instant, and then my eyes locked on a shadow.
I scrambled away from the silhouette standing under the streetlight.
"Which one are you?" I demanded shakily, finding Sebastian's familiar form.
"I guess I'm the bad one," North chuckled.
I pulled the hilt out from my pocket. "Accendo." And the fiery blade molded from the metal.
I pointed it threateningly at him, hand shaking.
North just threw his hands up, stepping toward me innocently. "I won't do anything. I just want to talk."
"Stop moving!" I yelled.
He listened, standing in place a couple yards in front of me, though he just stared at me.
The flames of the blade danced over his grim expression, but he remained there—like I told him to—waiting for me to calm down.
I kept the blade to him, feeling the hilt rattle with my sorrow, and more tears bloomed under my eyelids.
He just stood there. "You look distraught."
I only wiped my eyes quickly and gazed back up at him, but more tears bloomed.
"He hurt you that badly, huh?" he continued, smiling sympathetically. "Are you going to let me sit next to you, or are we going to stand like this all night?"
I kept the blade to him. "You want to hurt me."
"No," he uttered, "I'm just standing here. It was Sebastian who hurt you."
Tears slipped down my cheeks. "You want to hurt me."
"I just want to talk," he promised, throwing his hands up. "Now, it's up to you if you want me to sit next to you. Or—if you prefer—I could sit here."
I kept the blade to him, wanting to say "go away" or something along those lines, but I didn't want to be alone anymore.
I just lowered the blade. "Decendo." And the blade slipped back into the hilt. "Stay over there," I demanded, setting the hilt next to me, "don't get close to me."
