I'm Not Excited [DISCONTINUED; REBOOTED]

Sounds Like a Break-Up

[ Amsterdam, Netherlands ]

"A bed, hallelujah!" Ezra tossed his luggage to the side and crashed on the king sized mattress. The dark haired boy extended his limbs, letting himself relax for a minute or two. The trip, like always, took a toll on his body, as he found it hard to sleep while sitting down.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket for his iPhone, opening up his Twitter app. Like always, fans were eager to ask questions, show their love for him, and trying to show their own 'selfys'. He had to admit, some of the things his fans wrote were freakishly hilarious.

Nothing too important.

He pressed the home button, taking him back to the menu option. Should he call Illyana? Was it too early? He looked at the time - just past 7:30 PM.

Jesus, took us all day to get here.

What time was it in New York City? He clicked the world clock, searching for his hometown on the bar - 2:30 PM, it read, almost 3.

Would it seem too clingy if I called?

"N-no, right? She told me to call her, to call as soon as I got here. Yeah, okay, okay, I'll call her."

__________________________

[ Greenwich, Connecticut ]

"I envy you, Illyana. Really, I envy your life. You've done so much with it, unlike myself. You took advantage of your smarts, your strategies. That's something I never did... I guess I let myself believe marriage was the end of my life as an independent woman," Barbara confessed, looking at her empty glass of wine.

She continued, "I was a trained to become a theater actress, I was trained in the finest of the arts! Dear, I'm so proud you've let no man get in the middle of your life..."

Illyana half smiled, looking down at her feet. Was this her mother confessing to a life full of fake smiles and actual inner unhappiness? She shrugged.

"I guess I just remained focus and determined. Doesn't take a genius, really, to figure out what you want to be. Never was good at math; science either. History doesn't get you a great job, to be honest. English; now that gets you somewhere. I stuck to that, writing. But what's writing if you won't enjoy the subject? Chose to write about the secondary education, the arts. Success can come in minimalistic ways, or it did so for me. That's all I need. And, honestly mom, you don't need to end up like this. I bet you can do something with your life, something you like!"

Barbara chuckled, stroking her chin. "No, that train's gone by, it's past, Illyana...-"

Your sword's grown old and rusty

But beneath the rising sun

It's locked up like a trophy

Illyana turned to her mother. "Ah, that's my phone. Be right back." She stood up and grabbed the iPhone, located at the edge of the stand.

"Hello?" She answered, biting her lip. "Who is it?"

"It hasn't been a day, and you've already forgotten me?" Ezra chuckled, still in bed.

"Perhaps I did, would it matter?" She asked, smiling mischievously.

"Y'know, honestly, it wouldn't. I would find a way to romance you over and over again. It'll always find a way," Ezra replied, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, visualizing Illyana. "I miss you, Illy. I miss you more than you think I do."

Illyana sighed. The mixture of sweet words and sad sentences was killing her. Yeah, Ezra had that mouth of a poet, and Illyana was still trying to find her way around it.