𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 | 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

3| Endgame.

3 | Endgame.

| 3rd POV |

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"Knock, knock,"

Sage kept her eyes on her book, A Good Girls Guide To Murder, pausing the music playing from her earbuds. "Yes, mother dearest?"

Sorry Lana, we'll have to take a rain check.

She watched her door open from her window seat. Lorelai looked around for a moment, before her eyes landed on her daughter.

"We should be ready soon" She said, walking in and sitting on her bed.

Sage nodded, placing a snapshot from a photo booth she had gotten a few years ago, in as a bookmark. It was four photos, all with Rory, in black and white. They'd gotten it during one of the many festivals that happen in town every year.

They both had ice cream cones, hers was chocolate and vanilla, while Sage only had the ladder. They were making different faces in each of them, at the last second the two both decided to shove their ice cream in the others face, resulting in a pretty interesting picture.

Sage and Rory didn't look like sisters, much less twins. Except for the eyes. While Rory's hair was a light brown, Sage's was jet black. Rory's face was rounder, and hers more defined. Sage had freckles dotting her nose, while Rory's skin was perfectly clear. Sage's lips were bigger, Rory's more heart shaped. The younger of the two's hair was cut a little below her shoulders, while the elder's went to her mid back. Yet they had the same eyes. So, so blue.

"I honestly don't know if theres room for any more posters in here," her mom said, snapping her out of her trance.

Sage looked up, seeing her mom's eyes running along her walls. "I don't even know how you got all of these up already."

Sage shrugged, pulling her legs against her chest. "It's a miracle."

She had five tapestries total, two on her ceiling and the others on the walls, at least a hundred posters, some small, others bigger. She had vines lining the corners of her room, thin strings of lights intertwined in them.

There were books everywhere. Her bookcase completely full, and then some. There were books in baskets on her desk, some in piles, others in drawers.

And she certainly had enough light from the countless strings of them, lamps, and some other miscellaneous sources to never have to use the actual light.

The window seat she was currently in was a personal favorite spot of hers. She had a memory foam pad under about 5 blankets, with two pillows on every side of her, and lights running down the window frame.

Sage's favorite books were on her nightstand next to it, with her record player.

Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift, Cigarettes After Sex, The Neighborhood, and Gracie Abrams were just some of her favorites.

Her bed was in the corner. She had a hanging, white canopy attached to the ceiling. While her bedding was all black, with a white, fluffy blanket on top. There were pillows everywhere, with either silk or fluffy pillowcases.

Every texture in her room was perfect, every color fit the theme, and every design was just chaotic enough to make sense.

Sage's room was her safe space. Any time she wasn't in Luke's, a bookstore, at school, or on the bridge where she liked to hang out, she was in here. Always.

"If my room looked like this, I'd never leave." Her mom let her back fall onto the bed, her head landing on a book. "Ow," Lorelai groaned, pulling it out from under her.

"Should've been more careful," Sage snickered, looking at the cover.

Edgar Allan Poe.
The ultimate collection.

Lorelai got up, handing it over to her daughter. She mirrored her actions, grabbing a sweatshirt from her closet.

"Ready?" Lorelai asked Sage, pulling her into her. Lorelai smelt like roses mixed with lavender. She always did, which Sgae didn't completely understand.

Her shampoo was Vanilla scented? Whatever.

"Yeah, yeah." She grumbled, letting her mom hug her.

After she pulled away, Sage threw on her hoodie. She had been wearing an oversized, cropped, ripped up, ACDC shirt with black, baggy ripped jeans.

She may or may not have a thing for ripped clothes.

As they left, Sage grabbed her rings from her desk, shutting the door behind her. She slid them onto her fingers, simply on instinct at this point.

Sage's room was directly next to Rory's, making their completely differing aesthetics even more blatantly obvious.

At the sound of a knock at the door, Lorelai smiled, "coming!"

Through her open door, Sage saw Rory get up from her desk. The ladder went to lean against the wall before realizing she never put her book back. Good lord, she's a disaster.

She pushed herself off the wall, walking back into her room. She kept her door cracked, walking over to her bookshelf.

Sage's eyes ran along the shelves, finding the one open spot in between the countless books.

She heard voices outside, but she didn't go out. At this point, her social battery was practically at zero, her patience was very little, and her head was throbbing.

Instead, she decided to reorganize her shoes.

She had nine pairs of Converse, five platforms, four normal. In platforms, she had brown, forest green, navy blue, an old white pair, and a dark red pair. For the lower rises, she had the normal black, baby blue, lavender, and tan.

She had three pairs of sneakers, two pairs of Doc Martens, one platform, one not, a pair of combat boots, a pair of platform Mary Jane's, and simple pairs of black and white heels.

Sage had a small obsession with shoes and clothing. She got that from her mom.

Sage heard her door hinges creak from behind her, followed by footsteps.

Sage tossed her head back, rolling her eyes. "Rory, get out of my room—"

She stood up from her position on the floor, turning around. But Rory wasn't the person standing in front of her.

It was a guy, around her age. Tall, dark brown hair, dark eyes.

And—oh yeah, very, very attractive.

"You aren't my sister," she pointed out.

Well, I'd certainly hope not.

"Is that good or bad?" He asked, his eyes carelessly wandering around her room.

"Depends, but overall I'd say good. I don't feel like smashing someone's head into a window at the moment. You're saving me the trouble." She replied, sitting down on the window seat.

She brought her legs up to her chest, watching as he looked at all the posters, vines, lights, his eyes lingering on the books.

"Well, thank god for me then, hm?" He said, mindlessly, as he ran his hands along the spines of Sage's books.

"Thank god for you." She repeated, staring at him.

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