The Feeling Underneath

Three

(UNEDITED.)

There's one thing I've been sure of the last year and a half.

It was the fact that the stars were the one thing that was a constant for me. They come, every night, so I can look at them, talk to them, wish to be with them. I will be soon enough. The stars never gave up on me. They still haven't. Some days, they need a rest, my reasoning behind the few days they're covered by clouds, but I wait.

If the stars don't give up on me, neither will I on them.

Some days I'll just reach for them. I'll lay on the ground, and reach up mindlessly, the way I am right now. Just reaching, wanting, longing to be there, in an infinite number, and infinite scene, one that will go on for one to see until the world ends.

"You really like the stars, don't you?" His voice comes from behind me.

What a sight I must be. A pale, skinny girl lying on the ground at the basically edge of a cliff, her hand raised to reach, black hair floating around her pale complexion.

"They're the one thing I have to look forward to in a day." I say with a blank tone.

"It doesn't have to be." Damien tells me, lying beside me, turning his head to look at me. I don't look back. I continue to reach. "You could look forward to seeing Summer every day. Do you know just how much she actually talks about you? I basically know the you you used to be." He says. I glance at him.

"She isn't here. She died too." I say sadly, and look back up at the sky. "I wish I was her. She was so happy. Always happy..." I trail off, a single tear dropping down the side of my face.

"I thought you said your depression isn't because of your mom's passing." He says, confusion in his tone. I reach higher, and he pulls my arm down.

"It is slightly. But the other part is so much bigger. I.. I don't want to talk about it." I say quietly.

"Your favorite color is midnight blue. I see why now. The sky." He says. I nod.

"The stars have always been there for me, even before I needed them." I say. It's true. The dark sky, and the twinkle lights were there. I've always been incredibly captivated.

"Your birthday is on the first of December. Wow, you know, your one dotted line." He says.

"Like a constellation." I say playfully. He smiles and looks at the sky.

"You have dresses. You prefer dogs over cats. You don't tan, you stay pale, you don't even sunburn." He says. Wow. She must drop a lot of information. "Your eyes are color of the night sky, another reason of your love for it." He says. I look over.

The sight of him is almost as perfect as the sky.

Defined jawline, high cheekbones, baby pink lips, and not-too-thick eyebrows. He could be a model of he so wanted, I have no doubt on that. His build was fantastic. From what I could see through the tight white shirt he was wearing, he held an impressive abdomen. He reaches up and pulls a hand through his brown hair, muscles flexing, leather jacket straining to let his arm go. He glances.

"Your staring." He says, his metallic eyes meeting mine.

(A/N: Do you get what I'm doing here? Her eyes the color of the night sky, but his as the stars? Yeah?)

"S-sorry." I stumble on my words awkwardly, and look back up. His hand grips my wrist.

"It's fine, Winter." He says. I swallow tightly and try to pull my wrist from him, but he keeps it. "Winter, what's wrong?" He asks. I wince. His grip loosens and he brings my wrist to his face. He pulls my sleeve down and sees the scars covering the once smooth skin.