· *. ⋆︒ ⋅. • ☾ * .⢀。
In which tranquility is a far-fetched dream and the girl with moon-kissed eyes quenches her insatiable mind's thirst by donning a red dress.
· *. ⋆︒ ⋅. • ☾ * .⢀。
It was his third year without her, but the sun-kissed boy could still feel her presence coil around his heart as if it had been yesterday that his whole life had changed and come crashing down.
The new city, the new friends and the new job did nothing to numb the pain as he walked out of the overfilled bar.
The singing of his colleagues as they celebrated the coming of a new year causing him a headache.
Taking out a cigar while his other hand ruffled the golden locks of his hair he carelessly leaned against a wall.
Tendrils of smoke curling around him as if to mask him.
And how he wished he could be fully engulfed by the poisonous air, rendering him nonexistent to the world and making him nothing short of a shadow.
Like her.
A shadow.
A mere bystander in a crowd filled with somebodies.
Though for him, she had always been more than just that.
She had been his world.
Bitterly looking down at the golden ring that still marred his left hand, he exhaled a long gust of smoke, his eyes closing as he tilted his head to the sky.
Maybe she was looking down at him, right at this very moment.
What would she say to his now pathetic form?
"Got another?", a melodic voice asked interrupting the boy's train of thought.
Looking back down, the first thing he saw was silver eyes as bright as the moon as the shadows seemed to part making way for a girl with obsidian-colored hair and a red dress that cladded her body like a second skin.
She looked like trouble. She looked like the sirens written about in stories.
"So?", the petite beauty said again cocking her head and making him realize that he had been staring.
Blushing he dove his right hand into his jean pocket fumbling to get a cigar out of a pack when delicate pale hands halted his.
Looking down at her, he watched her gently remove one cigar and place it between her lips.
Her pale eyes kept on him as she waited.
Taking a step closer, he took out his lighter fascinated by the flame that seemed to make her eyes catch on fire and glow.
"You're hurt", she whispered as the boy felt a cool hand caress the canvas of his cheek.
He was tempted to decline. To tell her that he was fine. To even show her the expanse of his skin and reassure her that no scars marred his perfect skin.
But somehow, he knew that she did not talk about physical pain.
She spoke of pain that ran deeper than the eyes could see.
Spoke of pain heavy enough to weigh down his shoulders.
He didn't know what possessed him, but for some reason, he leaned into her touch lowering himself for her and letting her cold hands rest on the base of his neck.
He could feel the delicious tendrils of pain that her long nails elicited as she pulled him down to her level, her fingers wound around the hair on his nape.
Her lips now level with his.
"I see your pain", she whispered, her voice hypnotic and overwhelming as smoke emitted from the corners of her lips," let me free you"
And then her lips were on his and his hands on her waist.
His ring warming her blood-coloured dress.
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