{𝑨𝑴𝑩𝑾}
{𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄✔️}
"Like someone once told me before.. Moments like these, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight."
"Runaway with me," he says in awe, staring at the girl that filled his eyes with tears.
They were two comets in th...
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Chapter thirteen: Kissing the Pain Away
♥ ▸⚬☉⚬◂ ♥
I never felt more nervous with a guy in the room, in my bed, sitting next to me, and what was I supposed to do? I didn't know. I sat with my legs crossed and my computer sitting in front of me as Daniel watched on the left side of me...hovering over me, ugh! Everything inside of me was going crazy in the best way possible, every emotion came out and I couldn't believe it. The last time I liked a guy was sixth grade and it ruined my life!
Five years later and here I am, I don't have the best taste in guys and picking them didn't come naturally, "You do know you can go back to sleep, right?"
"Uhm," he hummed, "I can't go back down."
"Oh," I shyly said, fiddling with my crossed legs.
He asked bluntly, "What are your hobbies?"
"My hobbies?"
"Um," I tried to make the conversation interesting by getting him to guess, "Can you tell?" I asked him, guiding my eyes for him to get a hint, he followed but he waited for me to continue, "By my room. The grayish-blue on my walls, the paranoids on top and the hanging of white lights all around.. Or maybe the bookshelf in between the front door and my bathroom door, can you guess?"
"Your room does tell a lot about you but you see, I rather not guess who you are or what you might like. It's your words that's so savoring."
Why, why, why, why!
I whined on the inside. The more he spoke the more desiring he looked. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes back to my computer screen while awkwardly sighing just to calm down my heart from pounding so much, "I write."
"Huh?"
"I write and read books..."
"To keep your imagination going," he said, simply reading my mind.
Glancing over I knew I wanted to know everything about this boy that strangely made my heart melt, "What's yours?"
The question seemed to have phased him a bit, he squirmed in the bed thinking hard about it, "It's fine if you don't want to tell me."
"That's not it. I rather hear more about how you got into writing."
"Oh."
I realized Daniel covered himself more when asked about personal things. Going on telling him about things of myself I hoped he would feel comfortable to open up to me one of these days, "I didn't start writing stories until I was thirteen. When I was six years old I got fascinated in journals and wrote about my daily life, good and bad. Since then on my birthday I got a journal up until my thirteenth birthday. I continued to write about my life and one day I stopped and wrote a story without even trying. I filled that journal up with stories, quotes, and songs but I found myself stopping. I stopped writing about myself, stories, just because no one was interested in the things I wrote, I was wasting paper that'll soon be thrown away and burnt. It might look like I have a great family but sometimes they overlook me, they are not interested in the things I do or they just don't have anything to worry about."
