The Gangster's Mary Jane

The Evergreen Kiss

(Play the song, promise it'll be great)

"And I should but I can't let you go,

But when I'm cold, I'm cold,

When I'm cold,

Cold,

There's a light that you give me,

When I'm in shadow,

There's a feeling within me, an everglow."

-Everglow, Coldplay-

Vincenzo Colombo

To say I was a bit-- or quite a lot-- jumpy and suspicious over every little thing would be an understatement, but I guess it was just my protecting mode on high. The protection directed to the specific person that was now barely making eye contact with me anymore. She was looking in the distant in front of the window-- the same window I had the audacity to tell not to go near. The things I was capable of doing with no second thoughts.

But now, with full knowledge that she's looking like the girl of every guy's dream in my black shirt and just her underwear, I still didn't have it in me to even request her to move away from the stage, because possibly someone could be staring at her from the distance and thinking of the things I would murder them for within seconds.

But no, nothing. Sentences were made up in my mind confidently but as soon as they would reach the tip of my tongue, everything would stop right there. The thought of saying anything directly at her scared me as if I were a gun and my words were the bullets, I open my mouth and I might shoot her, I might hurt her and she might start crying because of me.

It's starting to become my worse fear. Seeing her cry. If my enemies ever found out about this fact, they'll make it their first priority to crumble her into piece just to see me get tortured. But will I let a figure near my girl? I don't fucking think so anymore. If it takes me scaring the life out of my boys then I will, I'll scare them until they are ready to attack even in their sleep.

Anything it takes to keep her safe, I'm willing to give it all away.

As long as she's silent of painful screams and cries. That's all that matters. But the silence I'm currently receiving is not the silence I'm looking for. This silence is killing me and it's all my doings. The confidence I used to have dripping with my every move and every word around girls isn't there anymore. My chest isn't buffed out and my chin isn't high in pride of my charms. I don't feel in control.

Now I'm just a nervous wreck, feeling like if I move, the masterpiece before me will crack into pieces. my clammy palms are pushed against my thighs inside my pockets and I stand far, far away from her unmoving- but relaxed body. Too far for my liking. But it won't feel right to touch her-- be near her even. It feels right to me, but to her, I'm not sure.

I make no noise, and just the squeaking of her fingertips dragging down the window makes me feel better. She's here. She's here and she's safe with me now. Even if she doesn't speak and it is starting to feel very unlikely of her, I don't complain. Who am I to complain and say she's not herself, of coarse she isn't. She just was used by an animal for his own little pleasure.

I gulped down my unspoken thoughts and roll my eyes away from all the emotions possibly lying there in display. Pushing away my silly fears, I made silent footsteps to my bed and sat down hesitantly. I didn't feel right, though. It felt like it wasn't me that deserved to be sitting. Because obviously it was her, it should be her that deserved to be comfortable--