Anxiety Alley

The World Is Ugly [Chapter 4]

Ben's P.O.V-

I'm humming an old MCR song, feeling like I'm on top of the world. So what if I tripped on my way to my desk? So what if the entire class laughed at me and they all think I'm a huge dork? So what if the only friend I've made is this little pixie girl with fire hydrant hair? She's the so what.

Her eyes are an enchanted forest I find myself lost in. Her hands are a lovely color and I'm hoping that one day I can hold them in mine. Her lips are tiny rosebuds, and I want to kiss her until she's dizzy and falling over. But I can't; I'd break her. To see those  lips turned down in sadness, a flood of tears in the forest of her eyes, it's unimaginable. 

I don't believe in the supernatural, but there's definitely bad luck attached to me. All my friends back home met tragic ends, every one of them is 6 feet under. None of their deaths had anything to do with me but. . . I wouldn't risk it. 

Lifespans are a funny thing, you never know how long or short they'll be. And if I die tomorrow, who am I going to leave behind? I'm not suicidal, but I don't plan to add her to that list. This world is ugly, but she's beautiful. 

The bell jars me out of my morbid fantasies and into the rush of the crowded hallway. Not thinking, I run into her. Again. I want to wrap my arms around this captivating creature and squeeze her like there's no tomorrow, but I settle for a gentle hug. I look down (way, way down. She's short okay?) to see if she's alright with it. She smiles her agreement.

I know it's weird, but I wonder if my 3 Cheers For Sweet Revenge shirt will smell like her now. I really hope so.  Her lips are turned upward, and a weird expression played across her features. 

"What," I laugh, "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," she shakes her head.

"No, tell me!" I insist. 

"Well," she drags out the syllable, "I sorta had a dream like this last night. And no," she amends, "Don't be getting any ideas my dreams are freaky random." Her skin is as flushed red as her hair.

"I wasn't going to," I step back, hands up, fighting down a smile, "I was just thinking you might be psychic." 

She beams at me, "I sure hope so."

"Because then I would be able to do this," And she kisses me. Nope, that was only my imagination. Unfortunately. I realize I'm staring at her lips, and I jerk my head up, quickly, hoping she didn't notice. Thank goodness, she just continues twirling the one purple streak of her hair around her tiny twig finger. 

Why does she have to be the living embodiment of adorable? I'm not sure I can take it much longer. I want to kiss her. I want to grab her face in my hands and drag her to the stairwell and kiss her until she can't think straight. No wait, I want her to think straight, I want her to think me.

"What are you staring off into space for?" She pouts, "I don't get to keep my thoughts, so cough it up." 

"Nothing,"I reassure, "And it really is nothing. I just blanked for a minute." 

She grudgingly accepts this, and skips, literally skips off to her next class. I'm still standing there like an idiot when the two-minute warning bell rings.