•Lost• (Palaye Royale X Fan)

•Chapter Twenty-Seven•

Creeping in solemnly but beautifully, the sunrays cascaded down the bland white walls of the tour bus eventually, over time, reaching the closed lids of the photographers eyes causing her to wake up. It was Morning. As Morgan sat up onto her elbow she drew back her bed curtain to soak in the heavenly light. It was bright but no warmth was given off of the rays, it was slightly deceiving - like some people Morgan thought. And then a flood of memories returned to her morning-dazed brain.

No sound escaped her lips. No movement was made. For a whole minute as Morgan stared into the light, eyes glazed over, she thought over her memories, recalling yesterday's shock like an MRI scan. The recollection was coming to an end as in her mind she returned to the bus and thanks Remington and then headed to bed. Resuming full consciousness she climbed down from her teenie tiny bed chamber and quickly changed into something warmer, pulling Remingtons hoodie over her head.

Once fully clothed Morgan slipped on her boots and began to venture outside for a brisk and thoughtful walk to sustain calm for the boy's next show. She was employed after all. Just as she reached the door centimetres from the handle she ascended the stairs back to her bed and collected her camera regretting to have been slightly careless. Even in her worst state of mind, her camera would never leave her side if possible.

Through the backstreets of her location, Morgan walked endlessly through them. One street to the next until she saw a rotted sign pointing north, the rusted metal letter nailed into the rotted wood read Cemetery and the photographers feet instinctively put one foot in front of the other in pursuit of the graveyard.

A short walk later and Morgan was surrounded by colours of grey, white, brown and black all set in stone; in the form of crypt, Angel's, headstones and more. A sad but beautiful place. Morgan agreed to herself the Morning light that grazed the ancient stones and reflected off of some gave a beautiful shot. That's when she suddenly realised small clumps of snow scattered the pathways, it was evident that during last night it had snowed and was finally being melted away, the waters short life will end soon.

In thought of this Morgans camera was already to her face, fingers on the trigger and shots of the beautiful landscape were captured forever freezing this moment in time. As she was satisfied with the angles and settings of her shots she removed the camera from her face and flicked through what's she had taken. And low and behold an aesthetic figure sit about upon a towering crypts steps. With black doctor Martin's and a hair that stood in sloppy spikes it was crystal clear that the figure was the lead singer of the band Palaye Royale, Remington. Morgan walked and sat beside him after placing her camera around her neck:  "Morning spikes?"
Getting slightly startled but then relaxed as soon as he knew the commenter he giggled warmly, touching the strands of his hair that fell over his face, "oh yeah, it's too early for hairspray. You alright?" Remington questions with a smile that screamed I really do hope that you are!
"I am, just getting over the last ripples of the shockwave," Morgan replied honestly,
"Very poetic, I like that. I'm glad you're honest because you know, well I hope you know that I am here for you, always," he explained turning to fully face the photographer. She smiled, "Thank you. And thank you for helping me last night. I..." before she could ramble on about her thanks a warm palm was placed across her lips instantly silencing her, seconds later the touching connection was broken "look, Morgan. I'm here for you so you don't need to thank me..." deciding it was best to leave at that Morgan did.

The pair discussed over the situation of last night's events in detail. As the conversation was coming to a close and the sun began to beam brighter Remington plucked up the courage to start a new conversation about another concern, his face slumping and his eyes averting Morgans gaze, noticing this she questioned; "You okay Remington?" She asked genuinely worried, had she said something wrong?
"So um...Morgan...we kinda need to talk about...well.. you know..." Remington stumbled for words like a teenager, Morgan looked at him clueless - it took a few seconds to finally realise what he was on about and when Morgan did butterflies began to take flight in her stomach, their wings tickling the organs, bones and skin of her insides as she got an overwhelming sense of anxiety. "We need to talk about our kiss," Remington stated, Morgans features froze...