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𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 ☟︎ 𝘿𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙖𝙣
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･
she had no where to go now as the thought of returning to him was one she couldn't follow through with. she couldn't return to someone she knew didn't care a single bit about her. she never caused an aching in his chest as he did in hers, and nor did she create a special sensation for him- as he did for her.
she had to come to the heartfelt conclusion (once again) that he may not care a bit about her. possibly he thought about her, she knew she sure did. he occupied and consumed her thoughts. and she knew it was anything but right to have a man take control of her. dominate her ruthlessly.
but she liked it. she enjoyed the small chase he brought. he was the trophy at the end of the finish line- except that finish line, that track appeared to be infinite. it never ended. her legs were tired, her clothes were torn. her jaw clenched as she mercifully begged for more air, the air was hot and clogged her throat. it was thick, stuffy- the air.
she had come across a diner after her direction-less stroll. it glowed in the ill colored dusk, the vibrant neon of red and blue entranced her. she no longer felt the chill of the skipping breeze, the creeping, skipping breeze that blew past her with a low snicker. her eyes were widening by the second due to the vast lighting that toppled over her.
there was a small burst of excitement (and relief) when she heard the bell ding at her entrance. she was greeted by no words but only the warmth of a shedding waitress and the quiet stare from a strange whom resided at the tallest chair of the glossed bar.
she studied him a bit, as she pondered quickly where to sit. she decided to be rather bold, finding comfort in the seat next to the man. timidly, his eyes found her once again, and this time, they now studied her.
she looked over at him, the pads of her fingers nervously gyrating the twirls of her loose hair, "hi," she smiled, with an unintentional nod.
the man with large curls, one with the pigmentation of a night sky, beamed at her, "hi, you alright, your um-" he created a clicking noise with his tongue as he could not draw the words he was looking for. his eyes were directed at her under eyes, where her mascara had streamed down. she didn't even notice.
"oh crap, wow i look like a mess don't i," a chuckle drew from the tips of her carved lips, the jewelry draped from her limbs giggling as well as the awkward interactions between her and this stranger unfolded.
he nodded this time, taking a small sip from his glass of still full water, "sometimes you need to look like a mess. what's your name, sorry if i'm straightforward i never-"
"brianna," her lips became sunshine, "and you?"
he stuck out a hand, she could tell he too was nervous, and awkward just as she was, "brian, friends call me bri. i even call myself bri," she took his hand and childish shook it with a thrill buzzing down her spine.
"it's lovely to meet you, brian," she nodded for what seemed to be the millionth time that night. she received an excited shake as well.
over the night a conversation flourished out of barely anything. topics swerved from stars to milky ways all the way back to how roads are created and the founding fathers of america. he barely knew anything about them, clearly from the accent he spoke with he was from england, but still she enjoyed speaking of the history. she only ordered a petite glass of orange juice, that was filled to the brim in the plastic cup that was crafted to appear as if it was glass.
her eyes grew heavier, her eyelids felt like cars and she was simply getting trampled under- or rather over. the sound of his voice drowned into a background of a gentle wave that flowed throughout the room.
"brianna? you alive"
"hm? oh, um, yes yes!" she raised her chin from her comforting palm and vigorously nodded. her eyes still faded out, and her legs still weakened- but she was alive.
he tilted his head, his hair doing a little bounce before settling down again, "you don't have anywhere to go do you?"
she shook her head. it hurt hearing someone speak the truth to her.
"you shouldn't be walking the streets in that," her lips parted and her eyes flickered down. she was dressed in a shorter length leather skirt, fishnet tights, platforms taller than the pyramids and a top she made from an old curtain. and her jewelry. "not that it's ugly or anything but, y'know, men don't know what the word no means." brian shyly looked down at his own remark, his hand floating to scratch his hunched neck.
"you're not wrong," brianna giggled, shifting endlessly in her red cushioned stool that stuck to her thighs, "what's all this about-?"
"come with me, to a flat, my mates they'll like you, just stay away from roger, he's a bit of a whore."
brianna bit the inside of her quivering cheek, continously biting the mound that started to form within her mouth till it only grew inside and the only thing she could do was continuing to bite it. "oh, another damn roger?"
seriously though. how many people named their damn kid roger? and how was it possible all the rogers she had met all turned out to be incredibly horny and emotionless-whores. daltrey sure was. he would've followed her and dragged her back to him by now if he had cared.
"please, i'll feel incredibly guilty if i let you back out."
