The Playlist

Inspiration

Sienna Delmonti was the happiest girl on Earth. Or at least, right now, that’s what it felt like. Though, if someone had said that to her a few minutes before, she would have decked them. Then pointed and laughed. But not now.

Now she’s as high as a kite and loving it.

Sienna dropped the baggie next to her as she spread-eagled on her roof, inhaling deeply with a content smile on her face. She liked being content. She liked it because she didn’t feel it often. Not so strangely, she didn’t feel much of anything often. She glanced at the baggie conspiratorially and giggled.

It was cold out tonight, which was annoying. The biting wind wanted to numb out the buzzing in her head. Sienna didn’t want that. That would make her angry. And the whole point of this is so that she wouldn’t be angry.

The stars are always prettier when you’re high, Sienna realized. And no matter what kind of mood you’re in, you can never hate the stars.

Even when you’re sad.

Even when you’re hurt.

Even when you’re broken.

Broken.

Broken. Sienna sighed. And froze.

There was someone on the roof with her. Someone she didn’t invite. A small, scruffy someone making groaning noises as they pulled themselves up. An angry someone. A—

A Tristan! Sienna, gloriously happy, giggled and grinned at the disgruntled blonde as he carefully sat next to her. Tristan didn’t like it when she did this. He said it was dangerous. But he would never argue with her about it, for some reason. He’d just give her this annoyed look as they sat under the sky that had the stars reflecting off his eyes.

Nope, you can never hate the stars.

Oh, Tristan. It’s always so nice having Tristan around. Even though he hates her plastic baggies. Even when he has his own. Tristan would be nice to her; Tristan would stay with her; Tristan, lovely Tristan, would care about her.

Time passed where Sienna was zoning, though she, of course, didn’t notice. Eventually, however, Tristan snapped and angrily asked what the hell she was doing. Tears formed in her eyes at his harsh tone. And then she was vulnerable.

And then she started to crack.

“I’m s-so sor-ry, T-Tristan…” Sienna sobbed. And she was.

Really.

He just sighed at her, not knowing what to do.

“Sorry for what, Del?” He asked her, voice pained. Pain. Pain.

Pain from her. She sniffled pitifully. She was cracking.

“For being a burden… For not being good enough…” Never. Never good enough. Not for anyone. No one. Crack.

But Tristan hated it when she said that. Because he didn’t agree.

“Del. Delmonti. Look at me.” He gently guided her face by the chin to face him. He felt unsure. He didn’t look it. Sienna was innocent. She didn’t look it. Not then.

Not now. She was cracking.

“Sienna, you’re worth it. You’re good enough. Maybe not to… him. But you are to me.” Tristan wasn’t very good at this. But he tried anyway. He would keep trying.

For her.

She just kept staring at his eyes. Tristan thought she might be zoning again. But then she smiled. Happy.

Not high.

Not pretending.

Happy. Because of him.

“Hey, Tristan…? Do you think I’m pretty?” Innocent. So innocent.

But not really. He blushed, suddenly uncertain. Because she was really pretty. She was wonderful. She was Sienna, so of course she was wonderful.

She was broken. They both knew it. Wonderfully broken.

Together.

She just smiled wider, even though he hadn’t said anything. Then she kissed his cheek and lay back down. And he blushed harder. He was mesmerized.

He was happy.

She was innocent.

They were broken.

Together.