[under the blanket of midsummer night’s sky, they are safe and solitary; senses yielded, duty casted aside. completely untethered to a world — out there, somewhere — of restraint.] .. i keep seeing cel in my dreams. [albeit there’s no shame in quiet admittance, softened blow of a confession, there is a gnawing grievance. romy rose’s own hands will follow the linger of his fingers on his own face, caressing it as if it would etch it to memory in far long to come.] maybe you should fix me up with your roommate after all.. — just to.. you know. [beneath and basked in starlight, she’s otherworldly: entirely detached from the predicament of what’s real and fake. gazing pon ardor—infused countenance, eliciting wanton yearning.] you look so dreamy. i feel terrible. i shouldn’t be someone who— [except that she was. perpetually selfish, even to the extend of her friend’s closest. sleep crawled toward something deeper, reeling her in. the pool amounting from the shame of unabashed chagrin; an overindulged, coddled, pampered princess of roses. it all gets so much for romy rose, it does. yawning, amidst emotional height,] tiring.. all of this. let’s just lay down.
