One Word | H.S.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

You've made it to the final chapter.

Fate.

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No Perspective | The Night of Loss

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One Word.

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Star-Crossed Lovers.

An eccentric narrative that has been dusted between the hollowed wood of forced reading and tragic attraction, it's known. The ashen ending proved fermented in the minds of Shakespeare enthusiasts, but what if it were different?

Repulsive in life, bounded in death. Romeo and Juliet were never granted the ability to fulfill their love-struck destiny whilst breathing the putrid air of the past.

'Til death do us part.

Unless you end together, no?

The Red was told to stray far from her Blue, knowing deep in her passionate soul how destructive their relationship would be. Knowing from the beginning, love is oftentimes not enough to prevail in a world against you.

Thinking he had lost the Red forever, the Blue accepted the peaceful sleep that called for his name, understanding he achieved what many are never able to find. Lost in translation, they look to the orange-cream sunset in hopes to find a lick of hope, riveting passion that their hearts continue to beat for.

Unless they stop beating.

An over-use of the word nipples, speaking out of turn was Presley Symmes' forte. Yet, Harry found himself thinking about her scratched voice when the clock would strike three in the morning, yearning to hear the tune of her speaking as opposed to the melody that drew from the record player.

Love, he was controlled by the mystery.

Sitting in the pouring ran increased his appreciation for the lightning storm, adoring every fallen teardrop from the sky as he would bask in the clouds' emotion. Hating any form of water, the despise stemmed from the self-loathe that soon began to dissipate from the fire that sparked the oil of his words.

The violet love was dysfunctional like a brakeless vehicle, driving on-and-on until they eventually crashed into the wall of inevitable fate. But, they knew.

My-oh-my, did they know.

For the journey was enough to force the smile of the disheartened, a child's laugh springing through the ears from a mother's soothing cry. Dangling from the hook of hope, the Star-Crossed Lovers found joy in the darkest tunnel, found themselves.

Found the key, they did.

But as Shakespeare once wrote, the gates for the doubled misfits ended in an explosive Supernova, drawing the curious eyes to the millennium sky as it blinded all who view. Goodbye's are oftentimes the start of a blossoming future, stumbling across what they always desired.

The Garden of Love.

Together in life, but also death, they're happy. They're okay. They're together.