HELL's POV
My life... have always been... a constant running away-- from the end.
Time and time again, even if I know it will eventually catch up to me, I never really knew how to stop running.
.
.
.
.
Every time we'd have a date that requires us to meet instead of me picking her up-- I always arrive 30 minutes early than the time we are supposed to meet up. I do this because- I don't know. Probably because she have waited so much for me, and... it was my only way to wait for her too? Or, maybe, because... compared to the times I didn't have to wait for her and the times I had to, she appeared more beautiful in all those times that I had to?
I... arrived at the restaurant 30 minutes early.
I was asked to sit on one of the chairs upstairs by the staff, but I insisted on standing by the stairs. I insisted on waiting for her by the entrance.
After a couple more minutes of standing there and waiting, the door finally opened.
She arrived wearing a vintage looking cream white dress with long sleeves and frills.
I told her once in a song that she 'was wearing a white dress that doesn't suit her at all', I TAKE THAT BACK NOW.
White dresses, to be honest, they-
they definitely suit her now.
Time slowed down as I watched her walk towards where I was.
A couple more steps closer and our eyes would definitely meet.
But, out of nervousness?
or maybe shame?
or, cowardice?
Or, because- even though she's beautiful she still looked like the end walking towards me-
At the last second, I instinctively looked down. at my feet.
I... thought I would run. Away. Honestly.
Like I always do. But-
my feet...
somehow...
remained perfectly still?
Unmoving...
