ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

WHY do bad things happen to good people? I'm sure there was a point, even the smallest second in your life where you thought of this question to yourself. Trying to think, to come up with an answer to bring peace to your mind of just why such horrible tragic things come into the life of a good person? Is it faith? Destiny? Or just very bad luck?

I haven't been able to figure out that answer either, there just wasn't a simple answer, some things just don't have an explanation, and that my friend is something you have to try and live with, even if it hurts sometimes.

It was past midnight, the smell of honey cakes was surrounding the thick air of the room as my eyes blinked at the tapping rain against his window. The square-shaped window, dark interior as my eyes just watched the wind blow into the air, trees stuck to their grounds as birds rushed to find shelter, a place they felt safe.

I was awake, not being able to sleep as my mind just thought of a million reasons — so many different reasons to why after all this time, every argument that we had, every insult, every touch led to this. I turned my figure to face him, his pale body rested against the sheets of his bed as the silk comforters rested just below his torso.

Sometimes it was confusing being with him. I wasn't sure about some things, wasn't sure if I had correct explanations for certain things. I overthink everything so much that I came to false answers for scenarios that didn't even exist. Was this all real at all?

Sometimes I wished I had the ability to just turn off my mind completely and just live life. There's quite a difference between existing and living, to being able to genuinely smile, to scream when the roller coaster drops from the high peak, stuffing cotton candy in your mouth.

I know we were both on opposite ends of things, being on other sides but it was possible to coexist without any issues. I was debating between my choices of wanting to express the ancient magic that runs through my blood like a magical cure. I understood him and was able to sympathize with him about the darker aspects of life.

My eyes linger on him for a couple of seconds, watching the way his chest rises slowly up and down, the slow deep breaths, his long dark lashes resting as his soft platinum hair is pulled into an entire mess. I was staring — shamelessly — my head resting on the soft pillow as I just watched him like it was a source of entertainment for me.

"Staring is considered rude, you know?" He spoke, clearly not sleeping. I pressed my lips together, not being able to form words as I hoisted myself slightly up. My elbows pressed into the soft sheets of the bed as I looked at him.

"My mother once told me that when you see something beautiful, be sure to take every inch of it in with your eyes, appreciate the beauty of it." A slight smile on my face, as strands of my dark brown hair, fell to my face.

"Are you giving me a compliment, Young?" He asked, his body turned towards me as all of his attention was directed to me in a matter of seconds. His eyes softly stared at me with amusement.