Unsteady, but determined steps halted after she tripped over something that could have been a rock. Then again, it could have been an arm or a leg, or...anything else really. She didn't look down to find out. Moments seemed to pass around her in staccato fragments.
Someone was at her side, which should not have been noticeable since wading through the thick throng of people meant someone was always at her side, but this was different. This was the presence of someone who wanted her attention. Veronica heard him before she turned to him.
It wasn’t quite so much that the sound of his voice immediately sobered her, but it cut through the lethargic fog of her thoughts like a knife. “Michael?” She looked up, too quickly, and her vision shifted slightly to the right. She rubbed her palm against one of her eyes, further smearing dark mascara into the hollow above her cheek. When he stopped spinning she stared up at him. Brown eyes rolling upwards to lock onto a darkened gaze that’s sole purpose was to alert her that he was dangerous, but it failed, as always. “What are you…” she trailed off, useless questions dying in her throat. He so very rarely wanted her attention, or he liked to pretend he didn't but he was hovering over her now, looking at her...like that.
She watched the poor effort he made tidying himself of the blood that stained his mouth and his chin. It ran down his throat and spread across the fabric of his shirt. She could see it, even in the darkness.
The blood, for the most part, made him immediately unkissable, which was her typical desire to being presented with his face. She covered her frown with a drag of her cigarette, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were glaring at him. Cocking her head, green hair fell over her shoulder as her sights dropped to the jacket he was offering her.
“Yours probably has blood all over it,” she complained, shamelessly blowing smoke at him. Her free hand reached and slipped a nail beneath one of the pins threaded through his lapel, she flicked it upwards. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, changing the subject in a forced monotone that did nothing to hide what would could have been jealousy. Her hand left his accessories to adjust the straps of her crop top as she pulled from the cigarette again.
Someone was at her side, which should not have been noticeable since wading through the thick throng of people meant someone was always at her side, but this was different. This was the presence of someone who wanted her attention. Veronica heard him before she turned to him.
It wasn’t quite so much that the sound of his voice immediately sobered her, but it cut through the lethargic fog of her thoughts like a knife. “Michael?” She looked up, too quickly, and her vision shifted slightly to the right. She rubbed her palm against one of her eyes, further smearing dark mascara into the hollow above her cheek. When he stopped spinning she stared up at him. Brown eyes rolling upwards to lock onto a darkened gaze that’s sole purpose was to alert her that he was dangerous, but it failed, as always. “What are you…” she trailed off, useless questions dying in her throat. He so very rarely wanted her attention, or he liked to pretend he didn't but he was hovering over her now, looking at her...like that.
She watched the poor effort he made tidying himself of the blood that stained his mouth and his chin. It ran down his throat and spread across the fabric of his shirt. She could see it, even in the darkness.
The blood, for the most part, made him immediately unkissable, which was her typical desire to being presented with his face. She covered her frown with a drag of her cigarette, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were glaring at him. Cocking her head, green hair fell over her shoulder as her sights dropped to the jacket he was offering her.
“Yours probably has blood all over it,” she complained, shamelessly blowing smoke at him. Her free hand reached and slipped a nail beneath one of the pins threaded through his lapel, she flicked it upwards. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, changing the subject in a forced monotone that did nothing to hide what would could have been jealousy. Her hand left his accessories to adjust the straps of her crop top as she pulled from the cigarette again.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
The following 2 users Like megs's post: SolitareLee, Tindome
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After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-02-2017, 05:58 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-02-2017, 06:00 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 04-02-2017, 03:04 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-02-2017, 06:20 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 04-02-2017, 06:59 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-03-2017, 06:19 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 04-04-2017, 03:07 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-04-2017, 10:45 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 04-06-2017, 10:15 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-07-2017, 04:32 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 04-09-2017, 12:01 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-12-2017, 02:46 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 05-22-2017, 10:17 AM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by Tindome - 02-05-2019, 05:47 PM
RE: After School Special [Closed] - by megs - 11-17-2019, 02:43 PM