One Word | H.S.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I wasn't expecting that.

Oh, sorry. Said this too soon, my bad.

~

Water.

~

I'm fucked.

It feels as though the ravished air has been viciously ripped from my lungs, yet my breathing appears normal on the shell of my body.

My tattered fingers fiddle with the other, nipping at the surrounding skin as Harry's grin proves powerful, too strong to ever fall.

Not sure if I want to fuck him, or hug him.

The neighboring ventilation presents a sense of eager pollution, contaminating our already love-poisoned hearts with an undeniable longing.

Waving my arms around in a questioning manner, I address the peculiar situation. "Are we just gonna—," I rustle my hands between the lingering space, my uncomfortable side showing in rather important, explicit moments, "—stand in silence?" My words have an underlying, unspoken emotion as they fall through gritted teeth.

The sapphire creature finds his lean body onto the nearest boulder, cascading his assortment of nimble legs out beyond the rocked pavement.

Joining his content self, the White Rabbit seems at ease, though his anxious mind still paces as he remains oddly still.

An intimidating dusk sets camp along the endless, pink grasslands. Shadowed, yet present rays casted through the dancing prickles, illuminating off the reddened flowers. The psychoactive hue of such an eventful amethyst, hitching the breath of any sight-seer.

The color of an endless mystery, purple.

Kicking around the nearing rocks with his pawed foot, the White Rabbit turns to the Caterpillar. "Tell me, again. Rather forgetful, my deepest apologies." The purified creature starts, though he was unable to remove of the eventful stain in the creek. "What exactly is it that you do?"

For these different, maddened creatures all possess of dire roles, aiding Alice to the hopeful finish. But, nothing is truly reflected perfectly given the fogginess of such a looking-glass.

"When two people are unable to express how they feel, use words to convey their undying infatuation with the other," The Caterpillar breathes in the fruity substance, "I'm here to make sure they at least show it. Admittance isn't only subject to spoken language, understand?"

To admit with words, only few can commit a verbal crime so drastic.

Shrugging his strangely broad shoulders, Pretty Boy allows the haunting smirk to deepen the trenched dimple residing on his cheek. "Why'd you dye it red again?" He wavers his ringed pointer finger towards the monstrosity taking place on my head.

I'm broke.

And, you're regretfully falling-in-love.

Sitting my already shattered ass onto the closed toilet seat, I fight my ridiculing brain for a specific excuse, though the lack-of-money already seems fine.