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genie 🧞♂️ ... Gene cilla ⭐️ ... Priscilla
cilla ⭐️ gene, can you come over?
i really need you right now.
genie 🧞♂️ yeah of course
do you need anything else?
cilla ⭐️ just you (read 3:04am)
Real Life —— "Show Me Your Skeletons, And I'll Show You Mine"
Priscilla's mind had gone over every single word Tristan had said to her tonight. How boring she was, how much of a slut she was for moving on so quick. And maybe she was, I mean, she had started quote on quote 'dating' Gene only about a month and a half after breaking up with the man. But, Priscilla had felt so much more happier like the brick that had been strapped to her chest was taken off, when she was near Gene. He had made the brunette feel like she was worth breathing the same air as him. And that's the exact opposite of Tristan.
Tristan always made her feel bad for doing things for herself, getting herself a new bag. Or even just as much as buying herself food for the night. The boy had put poison in her heart ever since they met, slowly infecting her with it, year by year.
Jeff Buckley had been playing throughout Cillas house, making her eyes drip with salty tears every second. Mascara and eyeliner dripping from her eyes, closing up her eyesight. Her heart then tightened at the thought of Gene coming over, she didn't know what to do, sit in silence, or call who she thought would hold her tightest. She really didn't know why she had texted Gene, maybe it was on impulse, or maybe it was what her heart wanted. But, Priscilla would never be really ready to admit that.
She took a deep breath as tears fell down her face drowning her face in salty water once again, and as she was about to drift off into her thoughts, the door opened with a creek. Gene peeked behind the door, smiling softly at the girl whose face was red and puffy, you could definitely tell she'd been crying for some time now.
The boy stepped into the living room that had the soft voice of Jeff Buckley echoing through it, "hey darling, ya alright?"
"No, not really." She laughed, sniffling her sadness into one big breath.
Priscilla watched as his full body came into view, red roses filled his hand in a bouquet. Her favorite. They may had been basic, but red roses had been her favorite ever since her mother had first planted a bush in the garden right by her bedroom window. And she watched it grow taller and bigger every summer, how she stared at that same rosebush every morning, till it died one random day when she was seventeen. Well, not a so random day, it had been the day she met Tristan. The day her innocence disappeared from her, taken and ripped from her chewed up nail beds.
