𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐡𝐡𝐣

part two

the second night, they met at dusk. when light started to fade, and the stars from the night before came, she climbed through her window, landing on the birch tree branch. having done it so many times, her feet nimbly found their placing and she knocked on her next door neighbor's window. once, twice, thrice. the curtains were pulled back, and a familiar eye smile came into her line of vision. the window opened and she climbed in silently.

'they aren't home you know'
'who'
'parents'
'so what'
'just thought you should know'

the boy and the girl stayed up all night watching 'that 70s show', both wishing for simpler times. he got her a drink, and drew her in his sketchbook whilst she wrote her poems. none of which were shown to the other, but easily distinguishable as each other.

he had actually been drawing the girl for years, and had sketchbooks probably more filled than any photo album her grandmother had made. she was not a traditional 'pretty girl', but the way freckles dotted her cheeks like constellations, and ears that stood out a little more than usual was interesting. her face was detailed, and not distorted by make-up or a desire to look any different. she was content with it, and he loved it.

her poems were obviously about the boy. some of just memories, some three pages long about his eyes. she was not, definitely not, in love with the boy, at least so she thought. but her poems of love seemed to match their relationship well, and one day she would come to find that.