Misguided Steps

daydreams☽

Three friends sat together on a couch. A television show played before their eyes, but none were really paying attention.

One boy, on the very left of the couch, wore a maroon coloured knitted sweater over top a white collared shirt. His hair was floppy and almost covered his sight, but he swept the fringe out of his hazel eyes with ease. He was consistently stirring the luke-warm tea in his mug with a silver spoon. It was the same mug he'd been holding since the girl on his right had given it to him at the start of the episode almost 30 minutes ago, long before he could admit that he didn't like tea.

The other boy, the one on the very right of the couch, wore a black tee with the characters of a video game printed in vibrant colours. His hair was styled upwards and he had black piercings in each ear. He was slowly but surely inching towards the girl sat in the middle, arm moving ever so slightly. You wouldn't have been able to notice the movement unless you were the girl or boy yourself, but the sandy-blonde boy, the one on the right of the girl, must have been paying extra close attention to either one of them, as he noticed anyway.

The two boys shot each other a quick glance. One showed confusion while the other's was blank, masking their emotions. The sandy-blonde boy's gut filled with a weird feeling. Was he... No, he couldn't be jealous of his best friends.

The three of them had known each other since they were little. He knew them inside out, back to front and upside down. Finley (the sandy-blonde), knew the little things Arya did, picked up on the quirky habits of Luca, and knew the deepest secrets of both.

So he couldn't possibly understand why he was getting an aching feeling in his chest when he saw Luca touch arms with Arya, but yet he couldn't stop himself from doing the classic 'yawn and arm stretch over the shoulders'. Though, his arm only made it to the back of the couch, surrounding her more than cuddling.

Each boy started to inch closer to her, whether it was brushing hair out of her face that had fallen from behind her ear, or outstretching their legs in a way so that they touched.

Arya sat in the middle of their silent war, her legs crossed on the couch and her hands pulling at the sleeves of her oversized sweater. She fixed her thick frames from falling off her nose once or twice and took sips of her tea, eyes fixed on the screen, yet not paying attention.

Instead she was daydreaming about a far away place of castles and fields of daisies and oceans in the sunshine. She daydreamed of fairytales and action novels, a personal storyline inside her head.

On her sides Finley and Luca battled to be noticed, but all they were doing was fighting against themselves. Arya didn't have a clue what was going on, floating away in her own little world.