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"WHAT did you just say?"

"No, Dahlia, I've never been to the fair. What's so great about it?"

The girl looked at him as if he was insane; how could he say that about her favourite place in the world - the place where she could only be content and at home?

"Alright, that's it. I am taking you." He had little to no time to react as she gripped his slightly larger hand in hers and sprinted around a corner, through a forest, hurdled over fallen logs and did not stop until they'd reached a clearing.
Luckily, the boy escaped unscathed, aside from his disheveled hair, red face, uneven breathing and the sensation that his ribs were caving in.

Dahlia grinned at him, and as her dark eyes met his wondrous, cerulean ones, his lips curled up into a smile too. He didn't know why. He didn't even know what it was that he was doing. He didn't know why he was happy, even knowing he'd get punished for returning to the orphanage late.

But it meant the world to her.

written in scars  || father lrh (au) Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora