❝but he needed her. like the crackling stars demanded their wretched sky.❞

careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.

Sometimes it snows, and sometimes you meet beautiful boys with cameras, and sometimes it snows and you meet beautiful boys with cameras. // #20 in short story //

12 Thursdays, 1 bitchy Walmart worker, and 1 bubblegum boy. [Short Story #25 // Humor #153] // don't read this, iT SUCKS ASS //