Celestial & Horizon (1)

cloud // star 004

Celestial:

           "You spend an awfully long time inside your room, Celestial." Celestial, settled comfortably in her bed, puts down her book to see her father standing at the doorframe, his arms crossed.

             "I guess I got lost in this story," she shrugs guiltily. Considering she is an introvert who usually keeps to herself, Celestial often coops herself in her room, immersed with books or photographs, and the longest journey she's usually willing to make is getting to the fridge and back.

           Her father frowns, his thick skin rolling down. "Why don't you come out? We have a movie on and we'd appreciate it if you decide to come downstairs. The neighbours are coming, too."

            Her stomach twists inside out with the prospect of Smith's, with their plastic smiles and frigid judgement. "I-I think I might stay in. I might come down for dinner in a bit."

          "You need to learn to get out of your little box," her father said firmly, before turning around to leave. "Not everyone is going to fit and one day, neither will you. Please try to be more socially gracious. Your friend, Kenya, was a delight. Maybe you can learn a thing or two."

             It's just preference, she reminds herself, swallowing the rock in her throat, ignoring the black hole sucking the void, I don't exactly have to be everyones favourite. She wants to be someone's favourite; anyone's priority; but she never has.

            As she grows to find company in her four walls, she fears she never will.

•∞•

Horizon:

             "My, goodman, you look dashing in your suit!" a greying old man exclaims to Horizon, who's donned in a black and white tux, his expression a complete mask of modest humility. "I wish I could say I filled it out just as fine as you, good sir, in my youth."

               "Thank you, sir," Horizon replies with tinted cheeks. "But your wife is a sight for sore eyes. How are you, Mrs. Cliff?"

             The gala Horizon is attending is stunning — beautiful in a fancy, sophisticated aura — and his father, with his son by his side, sports the boy around with pride, an accessory for a lack of better term (though not deprived of affection). "How are you enjoying your evening, good chap?"

              Horizon never had a second of insecurity of his life; always constantly praised, always constantly given a second option to do whatever, and it made him feel empowered, really, thinking about how he exuded chance.

             "I'm doing well," replies Horizon honestly, even though his seconds have milliseconds of doubt, of tire, of tirades.

             But he remains in check, beams and gregariously speaks with all he can, never letting his smile drop a degree, because in Horizon's world there's never a break; there is only a breaking point.

            Sadly, it seemed like he was beginning to believe his would come quite near.

•∞•