chapter three: pink moon

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SONG:  PINK MOON - NICK DRAKE

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SONG:  PINK MOON - NICK DRAKE




SONG:  PINK MOON - NICK DRAKE

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.



Jasmine's p.o.v.

My second day of school had just begun, bringing with it the dreary pouring of rain and a gloom that settled on everyone's shoulders, froze all the bones in my body.

The windows were streaked and blurred with moisture, making the swaying outlines of greyed trees appear as giant, sort of lugubrious creatures, hopes crushed, gnarled limbs slouched in defeat.
I was sat next to James at a very used desk, names of the previous scratched into the wood.

He didn't look at me once. I wondered if he was ignoring me, but I countered that, because that's just how James is.
I was sketching a balding and downright boring ghost of a man, our teacher, and as I finished it I passed it to James under the desk, so as not to make it obvious.

He smiled and softly chuckled at the drawing, which depicted the teacher's face slowly melting off, and as he was about to give it back I pushed his hand away;

you keep it.

He smiled shyly and nodded.

When lunch time rolled around, we floated down the hall, practically invisible to everyone, with the rain and splashes of lightning streaking ominous reflections on the walls.

"Do you want to sit outside?"
I asked, lunch tray in hand.
"Ok."
"I've got an umbrella."
"Ok."

Our conversations always went like this. I didn't mind it.

I got my umbrella from a large tin can by the back door and we went out into the dismal, harsh drizzle.
We sat beneath the beech tree, its purple leaves dripping with water, with the umbrella perched over our heads on a crooked branch.
We both just sat there, stirring around our school lunches absentmindedly and listening to the sound of the rain.

It was rather blissful, this moment. No one to disturb us. Just the subtle warmth of his body, felt faintly, and the constant silvery sheets of rain.

"Do you wanna go someplace warm, y'know, like a restaurant or something? No point in staying here."
I asked, looking into his pallid blue eyes, waiting for him to respond.
"Sure. I know a place."

He looked at me emotionlessly. I smirked, "let's ditch this shit."
We hopped the school fence and set off in a flash into the mists of the city.

~~~

We were sat at a sleepy little pub, with dim yellow light soaking into the mahogany carved walls. The window was divided into diamonds and speckled with quivering water droplets. My umbrella broke underneath the wind's pressure on the walk there, so we were shivering and dripping cold, pressed up against the radiators of the place as we sipped at hot tea and ate sandwiches in content silence.
He was really pretty with his hair dampened, and his cheeks, nose, and ears tinged with blush from the cold.

He was watching me, though his face remained solemn, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched me devour my sandwich in total silence.
I pretended not to notice and looked out the window.

Afterwards, I finished my tea and watched the constant rain pummel down on the eroding asphalt. I reached my hand out across the table towards his. He hesitated, and looked at me confusingly.

"Come on. Let's go sit over there. Get something warm for dessert."
I smiled, and he took my hand awkwardly, walking alongside me.
We went through an arched doorway into a smaller room with a large brick fireplace jutting out of the wall, a blaze of comfort crackling inside, with antique couches and chairs surrounding it, velvet red cushions adorning them. We sat down on a loveseat closest to the fire, our hands intertwined, laying in the small gap between us.

"So, do we go back after this?"
James asked out of the blue, staring blankly at the fire.
"Course not." I replied, smiling slightly.
"No, I meant to mine..?"
"Oh, sorry. Yeah that sounds fine."
"Ok."

I squeezed his hand tighter and softly ran my thumb over his knuckles, that were gnarled and red from his burn. He didn't seem to react, but I could see his body flinch at my gentleness. It made me smile.
A waiter came in to the empty room to take our orders.

"A slice of apple pie, please, with extra whipped cream, and maybe oven-warmed?"
"Yes of course—"
"And two forks."
"Got it."

The woman left us alone. I let my eyes slide shut and listened to the soft sounds of rain and the crackling fire.
A sense of undiluted peace took hold of me, as I let my head tilt to the side, finding a comfortable place upon James's shoulder.

~~

[James' p.o.v.]

Judging by the rhythm of her breathing, that had significantly slowed, I believed she had fallen asleep.

She looked so vulnerable when she slept.
Beautiful, innocent, angelic.

Visions stained my mind of slitting her throat, the blood pouring like a waterfall, gleaming crimson in evening light.
I shook them off and looked away from her exposed neck that was covered in goosebumps.

When our dessert arrived, I ate politely and silently so as not to disturb Jasmine, and watched the fire with a slight smile on my face, Jasmine sleeping soundly by my side.

I had her just where I wanted her. It was only a matter of waiting, before the time would be right to finally kill her.

I savored the following moments of peace and quiet, planning my next move as I gazed down at Jasmine's face, emotionless in slumber.
The gears of my mind twisted and turned in synchronized speed and precision, conjuring every detail, down to the most minute, of how I would win over her absolute trust. It would take several weeks, at the most. I would focus on speaking more about myself, to remove my shroud of mystery from her eyes, and have her falling willingly right into my trap. I smiled, with a glint of maliciousness, and kissed her cheek tentatively.


~~~

[Jasmine's  p.o.v.]

"Jasmine, wake up, please." I hummed softly and began to nuzzle my face into a soft wool sweater, until I realized who it was.
"Hi." I came to my senses and smiled shyly. He smiled back, and my stomach fluttered with a sense of excitement.
"Let's go." He stated, offering up his hand shakily. I took it hastily and we stood up, deprived of the comfort of the sofa.
We paid and left.

The rain had ended, leaving in its wake a soggy city scape and purplish mist that dusted the distant horizon.

At his home, we laid on the carpet in his bedroom and listened to Nick Drake on his stereo. The vinyl's soft pops and crackled filled every gap of silence, turning it from uncomfortable to comfortable instantly.
We exchanged few words; the music did the talking for us.

Outside his bedroom window, we watched a pallid, pinkish moon rise over a grey sky, casting weak shades of light onto the walls.
The stars were choked with the clouds, hidden from view completely.
Trees with blooming summer leaves stood statuesque against the windless night.

With a tender peck on the cheek, and another squeeze to his hand, I returned home earlier than usual.

I needed to prepare for either the grandest achievement or mistake of my life.


Fuck. This.

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