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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3. One Today Is Worth Two Tomorrows
Stars belong in Sang Sorenson's eyes. This, Gabriel is sure of.
He knew this beneath the gleaming lights in the room he first saw her, the crystals on the chandeliers could only hope to shine as beautifully. He knew this in the dimness of the tunnels in her house, when even the dark couldn't dull her glow. He knew this when he watched her smile with Luke and Victor in the kitchen staff's break room, when she was what lit up the room and nothing else.
He knows it even more surely now that the night sky is their ceiling, and the only walls around are behind them. The early morning air isn't as cold as it could be, but maybe it's this girl's laugh keeping him warm. It would explain the heat in both his chest and his cheeks. And why the heat feels sweet instead of sweaty.
It's been a while since Gabriel's had a proper crush on someone, and the older you get, the more the younger ones seem juvenile. The point is, he's young, and it's taken a year or two or three since he's fallen into such intense Like with a capital L.
It doesn't help that Miss Made of Stardust says things like, "I don't really know all that much about art, but I found Callen Schaub via the internet and I thought some of his pieces were absolutely amazing."
"The abstract artist? His use of color is fucking brilliant!" He'd beam at her as if he too held stars in his skin, and wonder if maybe they were their own galaxy. Luke and Victor included.
She has Luke's blazer around her shoulders, because that boy loves to wear as little clothes as possible like he's a toddler refusing to dress. It shows that even if she's keeping them warm, it doesn't work on herself. It's fine though, Luke is a furnace in his own right and fire burnsburnburns in Victor's eyes. And Gabriel Coleman lets himself be the wood in the fireplace, keeping all that heat going and all that light flickering.
He's not fodder, he's fuel. An important distinction, if you can find one.
So, as both he and Sang watch their taller friends engage in what may have been called a battle of wits if they had any, he gently wraps an arm around her shoulder. He can keep her warm, too.
"I'm not trying to sound like a suck-up with the way I keep complimenting you — and really, babe, there's so much to compliment — but I have, like, this thing with hair and yours is fucking gorgeous." Gabriel shifts his eyes down to gaze into hers, "And I know I already mentioned it before, but I was hoping... since you were so ready to just give me those heels, if you wouldn't mind letting me do your hair sometime?"
It's an odd request coming from someone you've known for less than 24 hours and isn't a certified hairdresser, but he had to ask. Her hair is art all on its own, Gabriel could only ever dream of seeing something like it again within the next 10 or so years and have it be actually natural and not some insanely good dye job.
