She was the girl who was afraid of love. Terrified of it. It isn't permanent, she believed, it leaves you and it leaves you broken.
He was the boy who desperately needed it. Love--the only thing that could've rooted him to this world.
Ophelia and...
"you are a golden thing in this heavy, heavy world."
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It took me a whole minute to realize where I was when I woke up.
I was on the floor.
And the thing I was staring at was the ceiling. I think.
I sat up groggily and yawned. Sleeping on the cold, hard floor sucked. It sucked like watching a spider crawling stupidly in your bathroom and not being able to do anything about it (because spiders were horrible, scary creatures), and that was saying something because that really sucked.
It took me another whole minute to figure out why I was on the floor.
Had I fallen off my bed again?
But then I noticed someone else on my bed and everything about last night came rushing back.
"Alastair." I whispered, staring at him with a frown.
I have a boy in my bed, I thought. I decided not to say that out loud because fuck, that sounded too stressful for an early morning. I also knew for a fact that I just had two hours of sleep the whole night. I was in no mood to go through the day holding onto cups of coffee. I hated coffee.
Rubbing my eyes, I glanced over at the clock, then back at Alastair's sleeping form. He was still asleep and I was glad that he was, but there was this little nagging thought at the very back of my head too. I didn't want to think about it, not right now, but knowing that I'd have to think about it later made my head ache.
Looks like I might need that coffee after all.
I sighed and stared down at my hands. How did I let this happen? Why did I let this happen? We weren't supposed to grow so close. I wasn't supposed to care so much about him. That never ended well.
It's too early right now to think about the end.
I found myself staring at him once again. He strangely seemed at peace, almost as if there was nothing to fear when he was asleep. Exhaling slowly, my eyes trailed around his face; his defined cheekbones, the light freckles that were dusted across his nose, those dark lashes sweeping under closed eyelids.
He was so beautiful.
A small smile curved onto my lips, soon changing into a grimace. I was staring. God, I am staring like a creep.
I saw his brows furrowing a little, as if he could sense my stare even in his sleep, and I looked away. I got up from the floor then, stretching out my numb body before plopping down on my empty desk chair. As I rubbed my face, another yawn escaped my lips.
This time when I glanced back at him, he was awake.
"Morning." I murmured, watching him carefully as he sat up, his eyes finding mine quite easily.
