As Long As You're Mine

Dreaming of You

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A soft beam of light illuminated by the full moon shone its way through the slightly ajar window, atop her desk. A gentle gush of wind from outside hushed slightly on the unread scattered texts that were thoroughly tattooed by an assorted rainbow of highlighters, covering all signs of the polished wood countertop that hovered near the untouched quilts, covers and pillows of her bed that she should be on, fast asleep.

Instead, she sat, legs crossed and back arched, turning the pages of a book that her parents would be very ashamed of if they knew she was reading. She was nestled on a so called "chair", or more likely an abomination that once was a chair before the residue of random spilled drinks stained it in numerous places and a landfill of clothes were heaped on it, much like the room's carpet below.

Her lips stretched into a yawn as she tapped twice on her phone's screen, summoning the illuminated everchanging digits, 1:56 at the moment. She placed a bookmark on the page she dragged her eyes off, closed the book and placed it on top of her table, as though placing a small child onto a cot. She unknotted her legs, placing it on the floor, stepping on who-knows-what, and made her way onto her bed, phone in hand. She slotted herself between the sheets, placed her phone on the side table right next to her and turned off the lights with a flick of her finger on the switch. She closed her eyes, turning her vision to the peaceful darkness, that invites her into a serene doze.

But it wasn't.

She twisted and turned, sandwiched between her sheets, her eyes shut tight with lines crinkling in the corners. Sleep usually came the moment it was called, that was the beauty of staying wide awake during unearthly hours. This night was clearly an exception. Hours of struggling to find a comfortable position passed when she finally gave in, sitting straight on her bed, legs stretched under the blanket. She turned her head to the right, where the window above her desk stood and stared absentmindedly into the stars as she ran through the events of the day.

It was an average day of school, yes, but something was evidently bothering her, punishing her by taking away her sleep. She wondered whether it was the upcoming Maths test. Or maybe was it the history assignment she was well behind on. She was never behind on anything. She decided that was it, the demon snatching away her rest. The thought scared her, taunting her but, whenever she sat down to write it, something always distracted her into procrastinating (aka her over obsession of steamy romances). She sighed dejectedly as she leaned back, relaxing her back on the bed frame. She thought about the consequences of her lack of sleep that were going to be shown tomorrow. She was going to be cranky and have dark patches under her eyes.

She reached to her side table and grabbed her phone, pressing the button on the side. The phone's screen switched on, causing her to squint as the numbers displayed 3:45. She swiped up revealing the home screen, the wallpaper being a picture of him. Zachary. The Zachary Wang. She gazed at every inch of him, her lips forming a warm smirk as her cheeks burned.

His beautiful rich cocoa brown eyes. The dimple on the top of his right cheek, shaped like a teardrop, whenever he smiled. His yellowish pale skin that shone in the sun. His high cheekbones that made her heart quiver. His straight charcoal hair that partitioned in the middle, hanging rounded just under his eyes and always sprung back into the hot mess it was, no matter how much he tried to flatten it. The way how he towered over her, is broad and tall stature compared to her. He was the typical Asian hottie that all the girls squealed for, not as much as her. Solely the sight of him made her squirm. All her troubles disappear. He enchanted her into a place no one else knew. It was just him and her, her and him, them and only them. How she longed to be embraced by his gentle touch. How she longed to simply just grab his jaw, caress it with her thumb and stare into his eyes. How she longed for him to be hers. Those eyes, that hair, that dimple all for her, and no one but her.

She didn't know for how long, but she just slid her thoughts from everything to just him. She replayed every moment of them together in her head, over and over again. Just him glancing at her, looking near her direction. An accidental touch on the thigh. A joke he told her. She wasn't even listening. Just watching the way that he laughed. A single handshake. These instances just brightened her heart like nothing else. No one else could have this effect on her. She also created imaginary events that would never physically happen. These thoughts just brought joy to her. So what, if it was stupid or a waste of time.

It made her happy.

At some point into the early morning, her eyes slowly fluttered shut and her phone slipped from her hands and fell on top of the bed. Finally. A funny thing about life is that death comes when death wants, it's not up to you. The same applies with sleep. No matter how much you delay or call, on purpose or not, sleep comes when it wants and once sleep is at your doorstep, there is no escape. You must succumb to whatever is your fate.

***

Another funny thing about life is that alarm ringtones, no matter how pleasant the music the ringtone is set to, will always irritate you to the very core of your soul. That principle was followed as she lifted her heavy head off the pillow, her doe eyes stinging by the bright light from the window and covered by the tangled forest of her chocolate brown hair that curled on the ends. She stretched and patted her olive-shaded hand blindly towards the ringtone, searching for wherever she had dropped her phone to shut off the hideous screeching of her once favourite song. The top of her fingers finally touches the screen, turning of the music and calling the numbers that show the time, 6:12, with a background picture of her with her arm around a laughing taller girl with straight blonde hair, trimmed at the bottom of her neck. She was beautiful, and popular. But not like the others. She didn't roll her skirts, wear makeup, bully juniors or just straight up be a bitch. She just radiated with joy and happiness. She could make her laugh until her stomach pained more than labour. She picked her up whenever she needed. She was practically her sister. She couldn't describe how lucky and grateful she was to have her. She didn't deserve her.

Peeling the bed sheets off her, she stretches her legs and arms, joints cracking and places her feet gingerly on the ground. She stood and strode towards her bathroom, brushing her teeth staring at her face in disgust. Another funny thing about life is that you will always appear the ugliest to yourself in the mirror, no matter how gorgeous you may be. A quick shower later, she sat on her table that was covered with her to-be-done work, dressed in her uniform.

It was your average school uniform. A white buttoned blouse with a navy-blue lined collar, a single pocket sewed on the left side of her breast, plastered with the logo of the school. Below that she wore her frilled skirt that reached her knees, the same colour that lined her collar. She might be the only one in the school that legitimately followed the knee rule. Just the thought of rolling up her skirt seemed unnecessary, so she never did it, unlike the other girls in her school. Her curly coffee hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, wrapped around with a ribbon, the colour of her skirt. Two strands of hair were partitioned in the middle out, resting around her jawline.

She clenched some of the scattered papers on her desk and opened her laptop. She typed 'Z4ch4ry 1 l0v3 y0u' where it asked for her password and hit enter as her laptop welcomed her. A picture of her timetable behind the multiple app icons, lined in rows. She was going to work on her history assignment. The assignment was nearly done. She had already worked on it for about 4 months. She just needed to finish the conclusion paragraphs. She chuckled on how she stressed for that. She moved her cursor towards Microsoft Word and double clicked it, opening Word's open screen. She right clicked on her history assignment.

Her heart dropped.

Author's Note:

Hey beautiful! Yay! You survived the first chapter! The second chapter is coming soon! Please don't mind the cringe.

Enjoy!