𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Lost Boy

an: i might start a new thing where i write a one shot based off a lyric that i've heard and fell in love with. i'm going to try it today and see if i like it or not. hopefully it doesn't flop.

au lyric —
"so what are you waiting for?
'cause someone could love you more."
—lost boy, troye sivan

=================

He's late.

She makes this obvious observation with irritation, rubbing her hands together with sapphire knit gloves, attempted to rekindle the spark of warmth she's been wanting since she arrived here. Her hat of reiterated material and color is pulled down over her ears, the shrilling chill of November air giving her grief as she sits here patiently and waits for him.

It's freezing. Picking a place to meet in the park is probably her greatest regret, especially at an outrageous time as this: seven o-clock in the evening. The pair is supposed to be at dinner right now in front of a pre-lit fire, but he's nowhere to be seen and they've already missed their reservation. Instead, she sits here like an idiot waiting for someone she is sure won't show up.

It's been like this for the past few months; he's been forgetting and she's been getting impatient with him. Her exhaustion hasn't been seeping through the external forces of her personality, yet she finds herself internally telling herself that next time will be better. It will be better eventually. But as of now, it's traveling so fast downhill that she's spinning uncontrollably and can't discover where to stop. He's been apologetic and she can't help but forgive him day after day because she feels guilty, guilty for being temperamental. She's been like that in the past and hopes he doesn't see her arouse that attitude again.

She loves early November. She is enamored with the remaining crest leaves that scatter themselves around the perimeter of the world, the warm colored spectrum of the forgotten fallen giving her an ease and calm mood towards the season. She loves the pre-snow. She isn't a big fan of it, so she tries to savor the moments before the snowfall happens and this is around that time. The winds brush through her strawberry blonde hair and tangle small knots within each other as it maneuvers through the crevices of her strands. Every piece of exposed skin is piercing in chills due to open evaluation and she feels her face grow red. The tip of her nose is crimson and her cheeks are blotched, and the rest is contrasted with the milky skin she possesses.

Yet despite her love for the season, she's not happy. It's nightfall and she's alone in the cold, confused and upset and uncomfortable. She wants to be with him so badly, but she cannot stay in the cold any longer. It's almost been an hour and still no sign of him, no sign of the familiar figure jogging towards her. No familiarity within anything, just empty abysses beyond the horizon that haunt her and fester towards her, spreading its darkness.

She waits seven more minutes. She checks her watch periodically, her phone every time it buzzes (which is a lot due to the extremity of people she has post notifications on for), and to see if, miraculously, he says anything. He doesn't within that span of time, so she sighs and feels foolish once again.

This happened last week. Only that time she was inside at the restaurant, sitting at the table alone for an hour with having no contact with him. He shows up five minutes later, extremely apologetic and guilty and she can't help but forgive him because she loves him. She loves his pallid cheeks tattooed with birthmarks that are scattered across his structure. She loves his touch, his fingers against hers, just the comfort he elicits which makes her feel like his whole world. When they're together, she forgets all the things he's done, all the dates he's forgotten, and she's reminded of why she loves him.