‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ̷0̷̷1̷̷3̷.

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @Iuxsolaris :
            
            i  see.    y  this  assignment,   it  was  poetry ?     {  dahlia  cannot  keep  the  inflection  from  her  tone  as  she  continues  to  observe  the  paper,   almost  disbelieving  in  the  wake  of  such  adoring  words,   such  a  cherishable  gesture  that  was  going  to  go  unspoken.   for  once,   she  has  been  taken  off  guard.  }    i  do  not  recall  us  being  in  the  poetry  unit  yet.   as  my  favored  form  of  art,  i  think  i  would  remember.
            
            *    me  too ,,  they're  sickening !!  ++  her  memory  has  already  seared  it  into  her  brain ,, 

@extranamuerte 
            
            //YEEAAAYYYAASSSS

@extranamuerte do it, know no fear

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME,  @7corpse :
            
            i  fear  you  have  missed  me  far  longer  than  you  have  today,    mi  amor.     {  the  rare  teasing  from  dahlia  is  paired  with  a  flicker  of  a  true  smile  on dark  lips,   quick  to  smooth  the  wrinkles  from  her  shirt  before  she  moves  to  enter  his  embrace.    she  can't  lie  about  her  affections  nor  can  she  pretend  the  feeling  wasn't  mutual,    but  that  doesn't  mean  she  can't  have  a  little  fun  with  it.   }    i  think  we  should  discuss  reparations  being  made  to  our  schedules  next  semester.    what  do  you  say,   hm?
            
            *     if  i  saw  them  in  the  hallway  i  would  genuinely  throw  up ,,, 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME,  @7corpse :
            
            you  are  stupid.    {  the  correction  stands  as  what  dahlia  knows  is  the  least  romantic  comment  she  could  make  now,    head  tilting  up  to  face  him  without  missing  a  beat.   love  is  a  fickle  thing  and  claiming  that  she  can  feel  it,   experience  it,   almost  stands  against  everything  she  has  ever  been  taught  or  told.    what  extends  beyond  the  safety  of  her  home?   what  exists  if  not  the  knowledge  that  she  may  or  may  not  be  doomed  if  she  takes  this  now?    her  comment  feels  like  the  last  ditch  effort  to  push  him  away  for  his  actions,   actions  she  not  only  understands  but  recognizes  in  her  own  self-preserving  tactics,   yet  she  cannot  bring  herself  to  say  it  with  vitriol  or  casual  cruelty.    the  hurt  she's  felt  over  the  last  several  weeks  have  pushed  her  heart  into  a  blistered  mess  to  bury  when  possible,   a  heavy  burden  beating  in  her  chest,   but  finally -  finally -   the  warm  bed  of  relief  has  cushioned  her  fall.  }    if  it  were  any  of  our  peers  in  your  position,   they  would  have  bothered  me  about  it  until  their  drinks  got  poisoned.    which  is  to  say,   while  i  would  otherwise  appreciate  the  backwards  approach,   i  would  have  vastly  preferred  for  (you)  to  make  your  feelings  known  before  placing  us  in  a  situation  that  yearners  daydream  of.     ( .. )    though  i  don't  suppose  i  know  how  to  behave,   either.   no  one  is. . .  no  one  has  ever  haunted  me  like  this  before.   

@extranamuerte,  [dahlia's words echo in bowie's mind for a moment, the softness through which they're vocalized causing his heart to thump rapidly within his chest. he'd tried, for so long, to shove it to the back burner, the manner through which his subconscious seems to crave her presence at all hours of the day, how she makes him feel as though he's floating, his heart a million times lighter when she's near. even if he doesn't know how to say it, it's clear he loves her, too ─ has for a while, despite his best attempts to smother those sentiments. his lips part as she moves closer, an absentminded reaction, fingers itching to reach for her, to hold her close and shower her with the affection he's been suppressing for her for so long. though, her question renders him silent and motionless, causing his head to tilt and his gaze to fall from hers, emerald hues trained upon the concrete below, like the silvery mass held the answers he was so desperately seeking. there isn't really a reason, not one that makes sense, and isn't formidable, anyway. he just wants her back, wants what they'd had, whatever that had been. yet, he knows it's not that simple, they're not there yet, and he has to make up for lost time before he can even  / think /  about touching her again. so, with this notion in mind, he forces himself to reply, gaze flickering back up to hers, analyzing her for a moment before speaking, voice laced with a hint of fragility, like it physically pains him to speak about himself in this manner.]ㅤi was stupid. i felt ─ i started feeling a certain way for you and i .. i got scared, i guess. i've never felt this way for anyone before, and i don't really know how to act. 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME,  @7corpse :
            
            {  for  a  moment,   nothing  changes.    dahlia's  features  do  not  shift  from  the  stoicism  that  she seems  to  have  been  born  with,   dark  eyes  continuing  to  flicker  over  him  like  she  can  detect  a  lie  by  appearances  alone.    people  look  at  her  like  she's  a  monster,   treat  her  like  a  ticking  time  bomb.   bowie  never  has;  not  until  these  last  several  weeks,   at  least.    perhaps  that's  the  cause  of  the  hurt  that's  blistered  her  so  deeply,    burning  deeper  the  longer  she  sits  with  it  yet  remaining  preferable  to  the  pain  of  pulling  it  out  entirely.  }    you  want  me.    {  she  repeats,   voice  far  softer  than  she  intends  for  it  to  be.   how  is  she  meant  to  do  this?    you  can't  be  trained  on  emotions,   much  less  conflicting  ones  such  as  these,   but  they're  clashing  within  regardless.   a  heavy  breath  pushes  past  her  lips  as  she  steps  out  further,   blocking  off  the  doorway.  }     you  have  an  abstract  way  of  showing  it.   disappearing  at  the  sight  of  me  was  far  from  a  giveaway.    ( .. )    is  there  a  reason  for  me  to  believe  you.

── ✦ @extranamuerte,  [bowie doesn't even seem phased whilst she situates herself beside him, not even sparing a glance in her direction as faux-chestnut hues continue to glide over the script of his novel. a page is turned occasionally, the sound cutting through the otherwise clamorous room, yet, even so, he's as quiet as he always was, much preferring to observe those around him than converse with them. he doesn't reply to her initial expression of gratitude, far too spellbound by his book to even so much as hum in acknowledgment, however, once she continues, he, almost instinctively, gazes up once more, dark, blown irises meeting her line of sight for a moment. he finds himself wanting to smile, yet, he can't bring himself to do so, only continuing to watch her for a moment longer before, ultimately gazing back down, his attention now divided between the book resting in his lap and the stranger perched beside him.]ㅤi don't tend to hog armrests, don't worry. consider that one yours. 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            {  with  the  approval  given  dahlia  places  her  own  book  down,   black  duffel  bag  placed  at  her  feet  as  she  takes  the  seat.    truth  be  told,   she's  grateful;  if  she  has  to  sit  next  to  another  chattermouth,   she'll  wind  up  back  at  the  reservation  before  the  semester  is  over.  }     appreciated.    {  she  speaks,   not  looking  to  the  stranger  even  with  the  expression  of  gratitude.  }    worry  not,   i  have  no  plans  to  make  this  a  permanent  arrangement.   i  would  rather  take  a  seat  upon  a  judas  cradle  than  push  y  shove  over  elbow  space  for  the  remainder  of  this  semester.

── ✦ @extranamuerte,  .. oh.ㅤ[monotone as ever, the response is delivered, bowie's gaze lingering upon the stranger for a few moments before he, ultimately, shifts slightly, moving to book mark his page via his finger. he then maneuvers the bag aside, setting it upon the floor before leaning against the window yet again, gaze falling back upon his novel.]ㅤthe seats all yours. 
            
            /ㅤthe signs were there from the start i fear 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            understandable.   {  deep  doe  eyes  briefly  cut  from  her  task  to  find  bowie's  anxious  form,   nearly  soft  with  her  concern  for  him.   he's  hardly,   if  ever,   this  wary.   it's  charming  in  a  way  she  doesn't  think  of,   and  as  their  gazes  meet,  dahlia  allows  the  barest  hunt  of  a  smile  to  grace  upon  her  lips.  }   pero  you  have  no  reason  to  be.    if  you  have  not  noticed,   you  have  made  every  audience  thus  far  adore  you.    it  is  not  uncommon  that  i  hear  them  humming  on  the  way  out.
            
            *    they  are  each  other's  babygirl !!   hawkins  was  not  prepared ,,

── ✦ @extranamuerte,  [almost immediately after the eyeliner pencil is taken, bowie's hand falls toward his lap, fingers fiddling, almost anxiously, with the rings adorning his digits. his bottom lip clasps between his teeth, his gaze focused upon her in an almost timid manner, his submission being a sight that wasn't often displayed, his compliance almost endearing in a way.]ㅤyeah, of course, i do. i'm just ..  scared, you know? 
            
            /ㅤatp, he'll take whatever he can get❕

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            por  supuesto,   mi  amor.    {  dahlia's  voice  is  strangely  tender  as  she  takes  the  eyeliner  from  bowie's  hand,   uncapping  it  with  one  fluid  movement.   unlike  her  paramour,   she's  steady  handed;  her  confidence  in  him  is  daringly  alarming.  }    if  i  did  not  know  better,   i  would  call  you  nervous.   scared,   even.    good  thing  you  are  not.   ( .. )    you  know  you  will,   cómo  se  dice,  blow  them  away.   don't  you.
            
            *    this  is  her  version  of  encouragement  :')

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            suffice  to  say  that  the  feeling  is  mutual.    {  the  twitch  of  her  lips  is  the  closest  she  ever  seems  to  get  to  victorious,   taking  the  cherry  from  bowie  and  plucking  off  the  stem.  }    i  will  return  the  favor  later.   would  you  accept  a  sip  of  my  shake  for  now?

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME,  @7corpse :
            
            {  the  very  idea  of  a  party  often  repulses  dahlia.   she  does  not  mingle,   she  does  not  tolerate  the  stray  touches  from  strangers,   she  does  not  dance  or  get  wasted  on  a  couch.   no,   her  current  surroundings  are  not  a  scene  she  enjoys.   but  she  enjoys  him,   and  by  extension,   this  has  not  been  as  torturous  as  it  could  be.  
            still  and  all,   she's  relieved  to  leave.   }    mm.   i  would  rather  lick  a  cheese  grater  than  socialize  any  further.    this  counts  as  my  good  deed  for  the  week.    ( .. )    perhaps  the  month.    {  is  she  joking ?   it  is  impossible  to  tell  despite  how  dahlia  glances  over  her  shoulder,   looking  significantly  lighter  than  her  words  suggest.    the  question  is  a  relief.   even  a  half-operating  diner  would  be  preferable  to  this.  }    i  suppose.    we  did  not  eat  dinner  before  we  left,   y  the  night  is  still  young.
            
            *   they're  the  problem,   it's  them  <//3     ( and  they  (do)n't  care)

── ✦ @extranamuerte,  [almost as though it were on cue, bowie follows behind her, hands slipping into the front pocket of his hoodie, his legs pushing him from the place where he'd formerly been lingering beside the doorframe. he watches her for a moment, a fondness reserved for her, and her alone, present in his emerald hues whilst he considers her inquiry.]ㅤdefinitely, yeah. anywhere is better than here.ㅤ[his gaze sweeps across the room, loitering upon the various throngs of people, disgust written across his face, clearly repulsed by their surroundings, despite it having been his idea to attend this party in the first place. a few moments pass before he glances back toward her, expression a great deal softer now than it had been.]ㅤare you hungry? 
            
            /ㅤTheir Song ™ </3 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            i  thought  you  would  never  ask.    {  tugging  her  jacket  closer  dahlia  is  already  slipping  back  into  her  shadows,   seeming  to  glower  at  the  party  around  them.  }    where  will  we  be  going  instead ?   somewhere  with  less  people,   i  hope.
            
            *     rip  bowlia / dowie ,,  you  guys  would  love  anti-hero  by  taylor  swift.

── ✦ @extranamuerte,  [apprehension churns within bowie's stomach as he watches her inspect the lyrics, the lump in his throat preventing him from responding to her initial reply. it's only when the compliment is thrown out that he opens his mouth, quickly closing it, yet again, as an almost unavoidable smile curves his lips. he feels overcome with love, the emotions swirling within him unlike any he's ever felt, the foreign territory being a land he only wants to explore with her.ㅤ[...]ㅤhe shrugs gently as she continues, moving to lean against the nearby dresser, a subtle attempt to get closer to her.]ㅤi dunno. you're always doin' stuff for me, kinda figured i should, uhm, return the favor, i guess. 
            
            /ㅤthat makes two of them; he's so unbelievably whipped for her ☹️ 

WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  LITTLE  OLD  ME, @7corpse :
            
            i  got  the  idea.    {  whatever  is  pooling  in  her  chest  is  a  warmth  dahlia  has  never  been  so  familiar  with.   the  paper  in  her  hands  feels  suddenly,   overwhelmingly  valuable,   worth  more  than  any  allen  poe  or  shelley  she  has  ever  held  in  her  hands.    it  is  a  love  she  has  only  felt  in  a  softer  light;  this,   now,   is  hitting  her  like  a  sword  buried  in  her  chest.   }    i. . . regardless  of  the  intent,   i  think  it  is  beautiful.    the  kindest  thing  ever  written  for  me,   i  assure  you.     ( .. )    what  prompted  this ? 
            
            *     she  has  inflection  in  her  tone ,,   the  bitch  is  in  love  ♡