The Pull of You | L&S

PROLOGUE

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It was a summer morning.

"Air so clear..." He would state, "you barely would be in need for a happy thought."

It was a summer morning. A glass vase of three inches in height, sat heavily in its light touch, on the window sill beneath the open air of this summer morning. Water puddled at the base, from the recent watering of the shedding Butterfly-weed stems. Once in every few moments, a select breeze would shuffle through the risen window; it would ruffle the curtains, I despised [because he loved them] and even sometimes brush its current through my hair. This in which, I loathed as well.

It only struck me of remembrance. His faint hands to my skin, warm like this summer morning's breeze, faint like the shedding Butterfly-weed itself.

It was a summer morning. One that was lovely as all the others. One, I detested. Like that once sweet taste in on your lips, that somehow with age [or non-temperance], turned bitter on thy tongue. One to spat away with the breeze that neither retreated not settled, just sort of lingered; as somewhat of a... settled summer morning, of my own.

The floor creaked at the hinges, my feet pressing to the wood [one in which he hated, always suggesting a carpet of the sorts]. And here I make my tentative thoughts and movements towards the glass vase, bleeding water from the sides. I could no longer bare the stare of those wilting Butterfly-weed [his favorites]. My hand cupped beneath the windowsill, I slid off the petals and buds fallen. Unsure of where to dispose of them, I rested my elbows on the wooden sill, hearing my bones shift in the discomfort. I stared a while, at the few petals, withered and gone; and before I could stare long enough to catch his eyes in this moment, in this devastating, humiliating stare, the petals whisped from my hand; out the window, into the breeze, the summer morning kisses of wind...

that in fact, were "barely in need for a happy thought", to be let away; the way they [he] did before.

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A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction