maybe if she had been called beautiful before with so much drive, she wouldn't have been so
stuck
on the one drunk boy from the street.
but he had meant it in such a way―
she was doomed right from the start.
༻❁༺
―on a girl with bad days, the first b...
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「 II 」 NINETEEN.
"a week from today."
the unnerving truth.
in exactly one un w a v e r ing week, Marguerite would be leaving all she'd ever known, bidding a grand farewell to the past eighteen years, which would have been fine if not for the events of the past summer. before then, she hadn't truly had anything to mourn the loss of, to fear leaving behind. she had been content with her departure until the boy who'd shaved off every last stray curl had stumbled so ungracefully into her ghost of a life and painted deep reds into her black-and-white reality.
now, her heart dropped to her stomach with every thought of parting from such an unmistakable vision.
now, they were facing one another on the floor beside his bed, their knees grazing like the day she'd first let him stay in her room, and his eyes refused to leave her gaze, and he would barely allow any traces of sadness to enter them, but she could see it, oh, when his curls weren't falling into his eyes, she could see the dark blue gloom that graced his dark brown eyes.
and all he said was, "okay."
okay. things were far from okay. she could feel tears rising to her eyes, and she cursed herself for never being able to filter her feelings, for always baring her emotions for the stoic boy.
a tear journeyed down her face. without her permission.
as ashamed as she felt, she wouldn't break his gaze.
he showed no response, no change in emotion, upon witnessing her mixture of conflicting facial expressions, a mix that had to be unbecoming.
"why are you crying, pretty girl?"
with every word, with every tender utterance of pretty girl, with every watchful gaze, he broke down every single wall she could even meekly attempt to build up.
at this point, she couldn't hold back.
so she surged forward into his arms, never content to stay away from him, always craving
closer closer closer
until every inch of space between them was long gone.
she was sure there were tears streaming down her face.
his fingers were brushing the loose strands of hair resting on the back of her neck in a manner so much gentler than she could ever imagine of him, and his embrace soothed her, and she had begun shaking but he didn't seem to mind at all.
because he knew she was leaving. because they didn't have much longer. because their stunning fire was going out and it was
all too real
all too soon
all too undeniable.
because he craved closer just as much as she did.
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