"God you're beautiful" she whispered into Malia's ear, pushing her girlfriend's hair behind her ears, revealing crystal-like studs that Ariana admired.
"You're beautiful too." Malia smiled, and looked up at Ariana, moonlight crashing through the windows and resting upon their faces. They were close enough to fall into each other, but they were both too tired to say anything else. The vacation of a lifetime, and god it felt good to spend it together. The white sheets looked almost purple as the neon lights from the city shone through onto them. Malia laid down on the soft pillows and pulled Ariana down with her.
"You're such a lightweight." Ariana giggled as Malia drifted off to sleep. "But I still love you. I always will." Of course, that was before the storm.
The storm tore them apart, Malia was forced to leave California. Her parents dragged her out of the house, while she cried and screamed. Malia had lied a terrible lie, she had told her parents it was a boy she'd miss. But her heart knew it was Ariana. All that was on her mind was Ariana's blue eyes, grey flecks scattered around her pupils. Her hair, so dark, yet smooth and so beautiful. Unbeknownst to Malia, Ariana had her own problems. The storm of the century was fast approaching, and Ariana stayed in her peaceful home. Unbothered by her parents, she would weep in between her pastel pink sheets. Her mascara stained the pillow cases, and she missed Malia greatly. Ariana's parents were accepting of her sexuality, but feared Malia's parents weren't good people for Ariana to be around. But Ariana could practically smell the brownies they'd made together one cold December morning. They wore long t-shirts and dark undergarments and danced around the kitchen tasting the brownie batter that stayed stuck to the mixing bowl. Malia had took a scoop onto her finger and let Ariana lick it, and they laughed, and were truly happy. But now, the inseparable became separated and they each were in a state of despair. Ariana called once every few hours, to check up on Malia but the call went straight to voicemail. At least she could hear Malia's warm voice.
"Hey it's Mal, you know what to do! I'll call you back when I get the chance. Bye!" God that's all she wanted. Malia's voice tangling with hers, they would sing songs and laugh, and talk about anything. Even the unimaginable. Ariana could always come up with something unimaginable, something new. Something that could make anyone question anything.
Their love was a masterpiece in itself, Malia was red paint. Striking, beautiful, strong, but lovable and accepting. Ariana was the blue paint. Subtle, kind, soft, common, yet different every time, not to mention gorgeous, elegant, lovely, and the color you hang on to. Together, they made purple. The color of fun, grace, love, beauty, guidance, and amazement. Together, they defied all odds, and amazed. They both knew, and so, that's what they set out to do.
"I promise I will find you." Malia whispered, gazing out the car's tinted windows, solemnly.
"No matter how long it takes, I will see you again." Ariana wiped her tears, and filled herself with determination.
"I love you." They had no idea, but they were whispering the same thing. Two doubtful girls, who were surprised at the fact that anyone would spend time dreaming about them. But that's just what they were doing.
