Pink Skies

PART 17

PART 17

            Seth had later walked into my room to place whatever Isaac had given him on the bedside table near my head. I had pretended to sleep but Seth has always seen through me, so I’m not really surprised when he speaks. “He seemed really sad, Vinnie. He wasn’t smiling.”

                                                                  °°°

            I can only keep myself from looking at the pictures for half the day and when I get up from doing homework after dinner, my eyes find their way to the stack. Groaning, I climb into my bed and grab the stack, placing it before me. It’s wrapped in a sheet of white printer paper, secured with a rubber band. On top, written in sharpie, is: “i kdon’t know what to name this yet. mostly because you’re impossible to label.” His handwriting fits him, messy yet pretty, letters thin and slanted, his d’sand a’sand t’s and y’s connected with the netters next to them.

            You won’t forgive him so soon. You can’t forgive him so soon.

            Swallowing, I slide the band off and flick the paper away, picking up the first photograph by the edges, between my thumb and forefinger, and the center bends up towards me. It’s glossy under my fingers. I focus on the picture.

            It’s of me the first day I had met him, face caught off guard, eyes widened slightly, black curly hair covered in snow swishing a tiny bit in front of my face, as if I had just turned my head. The creek is behind me and I am centered. The next one is taken from above. I sit at the bottom of the trunk, turned away from the camera. And they keep going; there are so many of them. Snow, trees, forests, frozen creeks, me drawing, me crossing the trunk, me under the cherry tree, me laughing, me frowning, me annoyed, I am everywhere all at once.

            Heaving a deep breath as I set the last photo down, I lean back and look at all of them together. All of me together. The photographs are scattered around my bed and there’s a lot of blue and pink and white. He’s so good, but I won’t forgive him so soon. I can’t forgive him so soon. But, God, do I want to. 

// so i just make an ask.fm (ask.fm/yoitsnova) and you should go ask me the things. i'll put it in the external link. 

I SHALL UPDATE AGAIN bc it's a smaller one (the next one) so why the hell not.

thanks for reading!

- nova. //