Shot In The Dark.

how they met. (One-shot)

she was 16 and sad in that way you couldn't really tell, with her dark brown eyes always shining and her lips always smiling.

he was 17 and a goner, living life on the edge and not quite caring where he went with his olive green eyes and calloused finger that never stayed still

beneath her pretty lies and the black hair ties she had on her wrists, you could tell it was a whole different story. when 3 AM strikes, tsunami tides in her eyes, heart caving in, inside the hollow hole she called home, you'd realize there was so much more to her lip gloss stained smiles.

at 3 AM you wouldn't be sure where to find him, whether locked up in the hell he hated to call home - or venturing the streets where his heart belonged, a piece of him left behind under every city light.

they were both so lost, unaware of what life had in store. but they never did care, they didn't really give a damn. alone and lonely and sitting quiet in the corner, with the world around them passing by in a blur. 

they were quiet and they were placid and sometimes they marvelled and they searched, but not once did they find their sense of direction. and parallel their lives were lived, unknowingly looking for the other.

until one day.

so this?

this is the story of How They Met.

--

At 2:54 AM on the 18th of July, Carrie Bruce was not okay. She was far from okay. Truth be told, she was on the breaking point and ready to cross the fine line of insanity. She was afraid she crossed that line already, truth be told.

Still as stone, she lay on white sheets stained red. A million thoughts per second coursed through her mind, from how much her wrists were stinging, to what her father would say when he found her to the funny way the cracks on her ceiling seemed to find a way to each other. 

She gave herself a huge grin. And then she stopped herself. 

'Probably a side-effect of dying,' she chuckled to herself.

Slowly, Carrie examined her arms, raising them above her head and craning up her neck. 

Her blood was pouring out, dark red and sticky. You could see beyond the flesh, the white of her skin opening up to you, telling you a story in some morbid, morbid way.

Carrie put her arms down and all at once she felt something wet and warm on her cheeks. 

Tears, she realized. She was crying. 

'Emotions,' she thought to herself. 'A side-effect of dying.'

But it wasn't, not really.

Carrie was just tired. And fed up. Not very happy with her life anymore. So she gave up, because there was no reason to stay anymore. 

And ever so slowly, she closed her eyes. Ever so slowly, she faded away.

- 

At 2:54 AM on the 18th of July, Aden Oliver was hanging on a thread. He thought he was fine, though he knew he's had better days, but he thought he was fine. He wasn't, actually, not really.

Above him, the vast sky was his favourite shade of dark blue, the stars shining in all their glory. 

Like any other night he walked alone, the city lights stretching before him. But unlike other nights, tonight he couldn't be bothered to care. He was uncaring and not noticing, and before he realized it, he was on the wrong side of town.

Maybe it was the grief weighing him down, the disappointment he carried in himself suddenly dragging him away.

Aden was elsewhere that night, and it was too late when he felt the blow.