she thought it was the way he smiled at her; how his cheekbones rose, and his eyes skimmed across hers. she thought it was the way he laughed with her; how his adam's apple rose and fell, and his lips curled up. she thought it was the way he traced shapes into her wrists; how vulnerable she felt beneath him, and how strong she felt with him. she thought it was the way he slept on her couch when he was too tired to drive home; how his chest rose and fell with each breath, and his eyelids fluttered softly. she thought it was the way he hugged her; how his arms held her together, and his arms tore her apart.
she thought maybe she was a broken record player, that couldn't get past that one point in the song and played it over and over and over again.
she thought that she was in love with him, but she thought a lot, and she might have told him, but he might have laughed. because she thought you couldn't just fall in love with your best friend. but she'd never come across a broken record player either.
she thought it was the way he was; how he spoke, and how he cried. she thought it was him; maybe it was just her. because broken record players were rarities, it was usually just the records that forgot how to work.
author's note:
written painfully in honor of dylan o'brien.
he inspired this along with all kinds of shit, because if he were to have a girl for a best friend she'd fall completely and utterly in love with him. i know i already have.
and you may say, girl, you can't love him, you don't know him. well you can love what you don't know. i know, i love a lot of people that i don't know. and i don't really know what love means, and i don't believe it's something you can define, but you don't have to know a lot of things to do them anyways.
