My Alpha Centauri (Completed)

抗|2.0

'Tomorrow you will remember...today you will forget...'

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A R T

DARK GREEN EYES GLARED, they were my own, heavy with hate and standing up just for the universe to push them back down. Heavy with the words I used to speak and the actions I used to do, heavy with the real me, heavy with artwork.

When I thought about some things I thought about other things, and when I thought about other things I thought about sad things, and you can only imagine where that goes.

I looked in the mirror like I was looking through glass at an aquarium, mirrors were not my everything and they never would be, the lipstick never smudged the mirror anymore and neither did my words.

'Some days we fall away and some days we crawl away...' Bambi's small fist would curl into my own when I told her words she didn't understand; when I spoke my truth to her small ears which didn't hear.

I put the mirror in my locker to remind myself I couldn't speak, to remind myself that the only sense I could lean on was my eyesight, that even the others didn't mean as much. I put the mirror there so I could remember how I glowed when I spoke my words.

South had warmed up to me, even if he didn't want to, his eyes were friendlier and his tone was warmer.

The bell had rung and it was time to leave, but I couldn't bring myself to tear my eyes away from the dark green orbs staring back at me. I couldn't bring myself to let go.

South's head popped into the mirror, his cold eyes burning viciously and his posture extremely rigid – just like usual – and a cigarette bundled between his teeth. The smell of smoke rose with my eyebrows and I found myself looking unimpressed at the sight of his blackened fingertips.

'What?' His voice came muffled, the same continuous drones of dos and don'ts that embed themselves into his words, 'they tell a story...just gotta listen.'

A soft breath escaped my mouth and I shook my head, knowing it was impossible to argue when he needed them to fill the void in his heart.

I guess my 'cigarettes' were like the record player Sun used to have up on the kitchen shelf, the same hit and tumble of every artist who had ever decided they would die for their grief. I needed those sounds. I needed those words.

But what I need is to stop thinking about Sun...

South reminded me of wine; of a liquid so deep and so thick. He was everywhere, basking in the lazy light of the sun and resting his back against any surface he had the chance to hit. Wine was summer, and so was South – even though he looks not –.

A deep voice rippled through the air, velvet and smooth, just like the tone of Sun's record player. The sound made the words spit up my throat, clawing for the release of tension and bite. It lured me in, such beauty and infinity in a sound so deep I almost missed what it was saying – and I never miss words. 'South we need to g–'

The voice stopped speaking and I felt a burning trail of fire spark along my skin, turning around, my eyes locked on thick combat boots – that I was certain could kill – and a grey scarf which hid half of the giants face.

He had a massive frame, towering over me and South like a huge fence that went on for miles and miles, but at the same time he was more like a brick wall, so cold and cold that it wouldn't surprise me if someone got frostbite from touching him. His skin prickled for mine and I could sense it – I could feel the need for his body to be placed next to mine every minute of the night.