our fall in may||BWS (completed)

Chapter Eleven

May

I spun around, the lights hitting my face as I tried to concentrate on my foot work. The crowd cheered as I did a backhand spring.

The music ended and I ran backstage to get changed for modern, leaving the applause behind me. I put on the barely covering white cloth and followed the rest of the modern dancers out onto the stage. The lighting had become darker.

The dance was supposed to symbolize society attempting to pull our generation away from the daunting path it was about to take. It was quiet as we danced the inspirational number. Once it ended, the crowd cheered loudly. We all ran backstage, hugging each other in congratulations.

My mom ran to me, her short blonde hair neat and brown eyes gleaming. I smiled and jumped into her arms. I was only nine, small enough for her to hold still.

"Amazing!" She gushed into my neck. "I'm so proud of you."

___________

I shivered once I woke up from my flashback dream. I still dream colors and memories. This one hit hard since it was about my dance days. I stared into the dark void that was my sight until I flipped over, covering my face with my pillow. I began sobbing. I cried and cried until I had nothing more to give and fell back asleep.

I dreamed of Bradley. I imagined what he looked like.

Dark hair, most likely on the short side, maybe buzz cut. I thought he would be pale with blue eyes and tall. From his voice range, he didn't seem extremely tall, but I've been wrong before. I figured he would be skinny. From his shoulder I could tell he was boney. He probably didn't eat much, adding to the pale image. When he smiled in my mind, his teeth where white, but a bit crooked. Might be the stereotypical Brit, but I always imagined them with crooked teeth. I think he would have cheekbones and a oval face that would looked much more elegant if he let his hair grow out.

I hated this guessing game though.

I wanted to know what he looked like, but I was afraid to ask him. I also didn't know if I wanted to know for myself.

These dreams of him were most likely caused by the news of him getting released tomorrow that I received before going to bed. I was worried about him.

He had been in there for two months, and had grown more comfortable around me. We never spoke of our trauma and always maintained the three foot difference. Sometimes, I felt as though he wanted to be able to hold my hand, but I knew it was my imagination when I felt the air shift around me.

I wanted him to be comfortable with me. I think if he trusted me completely, he might let me know more about him.

I knew though for a fact, that I would never know what Bradley Simpson looked like.

Someone could make a brail drawing of him possibly, but why do take that time? I wished I could reach out and feel his skin. Did he have acne? I knew he was twenty and most that age don't, but maybe he did. Does he have scars on his face? What about anywhere else? Does he wear any jewelry? Does he have a nice smile?

The more and more I thought, the more and more painful this boy made me.

Last Thursday, he complimented my green dress, saying it brought out the color of my eyes. He apologized right after I felt my cheeks warm, but I told him thank you. It meant a lot for him to say that.

I am finally admitting it to myself.

I have more than friendly feelings towards the boy named Bradley Simpson.

__________________

Filler? Filler.

I find Bradley to be more of a squish in this than in real life for some reason and I wanna cuddle and hug him oml this boy

-Rose

(Ps: here's a cute picture from Bradley's story today ; ))

HIS EYES IM DEAD