Biting her tongue and smiling for the cameras has got her this far, but it's not a sustainable way of surviving, even if it's all Sang knows how to do. The stabbing pain of heels have lessened over time, but she's still too small to make anything ar...
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4. (part i) You'll Never Find A Rainbow If You're Looking Down
Some days, you aren't meant to smile. It's just not part of the planning.
Some days, you're just supposed to sink into whatever comfortable piece of furniture and wallow in whatever you're feeling. Let yourself stew in upset or discontent, cry out of sadness or frustration.
It's the day after that you pull yourself back together, and you smile, however small.
Today, Sang thinks locking herself in her bedroom — and then her bathroom after that — is a good idea. She'll bring a blanket and a pillow, and she will not smile. Because that's not part of her planning. And she will cry, but she's not giving up. This isn't a breakdown, this is a falling apart where you're already ready to put yourself back together again. The pieces will fit into place as easy as breathing, and she will be okay.
But for now, her pillow will collect her tears and Sang will think to herself of all the other pillows that have done the same job.
The rain pattering against her window is soothing, the gentle drum of water droplets hitting glass panes lulling her into a floaty head-space. Watching them slide down entertains her absentmindedly for a while, but it doesn't fully distract her from what's been moping about recently.
Sang sighs.
It's been a month since she met those three boys. Victor Morgan, Gabriel Coleman, Luke Taylor.
Victor, Gabriel, Luke.
Princess, a whisper.
Trouble, a chuckle.
Sugar, a drawl.
Shakespeare did say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. In truth, it makes Sang feel like she's fading away the further the memory of their physical presence becomes.
They kept their promise of texting her, of face-timing her. Her phone goes off constantly, notification after notification pouring in as they send her messages, showing her pictures of things that remind them of her, links to songs they think she'd like, videos they hope make her laugh.
Gabriel calls her when he's going shopping; they talk about fashion and discuss make-up as he browses for hours. Sometimes, he wanders into an art store and tells her all the things he wants to paint with all the tools he doesn't yet have, his face the most bashful you'll see from him in public. He tells her of all the wonders trapped in his head that just won't come out right on paper, tells her he's struggled to draw her even if she never leaves his mind for long. She'll stare at the plain walls in her house and say that if anyone can bring fantasy to life, it's him.
Luke calls her at completely random times, sharing every moment he can with her. His face fills her phone up and he rambles out stories one after the other, his single dimple appearing every time his grin lights up his face. He tells her about his adventures climbing every possible surface, about the flowers he wants to braid into her hair, about the trees that could hide fairies, about the birds that sound almost as pretty as she does. They talk about all the magic that could be, and all the magic there already is.
