Status: Incomplete.
emerald.
Chapter 2
Now it's tomorrow from yesterday and I arrive a few minutes shy of Ryan and he still doesn't see me and I still hear the constant 'crunch, crunch, crunch' of his converse against fallen leaves and twigs and my heartbeat is in sync with his steps. I love him. Even if he thinks he's alone, which okay, I guess he sort of is alone in his mind, but I'll always be watching. Trying to stare through his window panes and not see my own reflection in the dusty glass, yep, that'll be me.
He's sprawled out on his stomach, absorbing emerald blades, and his face is buried in the middle of a sun-patch and, god, I want to touch him ever-so innocently. I'm a couple of strides away, it wouldn't be hard, but I tame my hands by busying them with History homework that seriously should have been done way before today, and it's almost terrible how a stranger can be m first priority, but I guess it's understandable in my head, because uh. Well, I don't have any friends, I don't really care about grades as long as I scrape by, I hate my too-religious family and they pretend I don't even exist, that's just how it's always been though, and I suck at all extra-curricular activities. (My only passion is music and Ryan has this melody that I'd rather hear, versus the adolescent choir/orchestra/band that flashes the student body with its headache inducing flyers around the halls.)
Obviously the only thing I can resort to is to guard a strange stranger named Ryan, who is like no one I've ever met before. (Ha, 'met', I act like we've shaken hands or something, when in fact I had to learn his name by taking his picture and showing it to the librarian after seeing him crack open a Chuck Palahniuk book.) I swear to god he makes me so much more insane than I thought I was before.
While I think all of this, Ryan retrieves a small scarlet notebook that I'm too familiarly-unfamiliar with and i can't help but notice how his slim-fit tee-shirt rides up slightly and it reveals the tiniest stripe of lower back as he pulls a pen from the same bag and suddenly I'm blushing profusely and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to remain mute and I pray and pray that I'm silent and he doesn’t notice the rustle in the bushes. But I guess it's been nice, long, run and restraining orders expire anyway, right?
I must have had a bad connection on the prayer-line, because his head snaps back faster than I thought possible, as if saying 'A-ha!', and my horrified eyes meet with his, surprisingly calm, eyes and I feel a rush of nausea because his eyes, his eyes, are hazel and beautiful and they're just like the rest of his entire being, I guess, and they're staring at/through/near me and. All I can do is stutter a bunch of words that I'm not really sure were supposed to make sense, but then I notice his lips, lips, lips, lips, they part like they're going to spew a bunch of word-vomit at me but instead he purses them and damn. I ruined everything.
"I-I know you're there. You've...been here." Ryan says, sitting up as if ready to actually talk to me and all that's sprinting through my mind are the questions that have been burning my throat since May. But my mind melted too, when I heard that voice of his for the first time and was fully impacted by how perfect everything Ryan is or does and the fact that he knew and kept it a secret. It's magical and earth-shaking and impossibly pleasant, the soft mumble of his words against my ears.
"I-I'm s-sorry. I should g-go." Of course, I should leave, should run, before Ryan has the chance to finally call the cops, but then there's a hand on my crouched knee and it's warm and perfect, like it belongs there, and whoa. When did Ryan move closer, to...kissing distance?
"N-no. Stay. Please."
And the hope in those honey-tea eyes makes my heart swell and the pleading manner of his tone makes my head tilt into the greatest kiss I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. (Granted that it’s my first but holy shit. )
*
He's sprawled out on his stomach, absorbing emerald blades, and his face is buried in the middle of a sun-patch and, god, I want to touch him ever-so innocently. I'm a couple of strides away, it wouldn't be hard, but I tame my hands by busying them with History homework that seriously should have been done way before today, and it's almost terrible how a stranger can be m first priority, but I guess it's understandable in my head, because uh. Well, I don't have any friends, I don't really care about grades as long as I scrape by, I hate my too-religious family and they pretend I don't even exist, that's just how it's always been though, and I suck at all extra-curricular activities. (My only passion is music and Ryan has this melody that I'd rather hear, versus the adolescent choir/orchestra/band that flashes the student body with its headache inducing flyers around the halls.)
Obviously the only thing I can resort to is to guard a strange stranger named Ryan, who is like no one I've ever met before. (Ha, 'met', I act like we've shaken hands or something, when in fact I had to learn his name by taking his picture and showing it to the librarian after seeing him crack open a Chuck Palahniuk book.) I swear to god he makes me so much more insane than I thought I was before.
While I think all of this, Ryan retrieves a small scarlet notebook that I'm too familiarly-unfamiliar with and i can't help but notice how his slim-fit tee-shirt rides up slightly and it reveals the tiniest stripe of lower back as he pulls a pen from the same bag and suddenly I'm blushing profusely and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to remain mute and I pray and pray that I'm silent and he doesn’t notice the rustle in the bushes. But I guess it's been nice, long, run and restraining orders expire anyway, right?
I must have had a bad connection on the prayer-line, because his head snaps back faster than I thought possible, as if saying 'A-ha!', and my horrified eyes meet with his, surprisingly calm, eyes and I feel a rush of nausea because his eyes, his eyes, are hazel and beautiful and they're just like the rest of his entire being, I guess, and they're staring at/through/near me and. All I can do is stutter a bunch of words that I'm not really sure were supposed to make sense, but then I notice his lips, lips, lips, lips, they part like they're going to spew a bunch of word-vomit at me but instead he purses them and damn. I ruined everything.
"I-I know you're there. You've...been here." Ryan says, sitting up as if ready to actually talk to me and all that's sprinting through my mind are the questions that have been burning my throat since May. But my mind melted too, when I heard that voice of his for the first time and was fully impacted by how perfect everything Ryan is or does and the fact that he knew and kept it a secret. It's magical and earth-shaking and impossibly pleasant, the soft mumble of his words against my ears.
"I-I'm s-sorry. I should g-go." Of course, I should leave, should run, before Ryan has the chance to finally call the cops, but then there's a hand on my crouched knee and it's warm and perfect, like it belongs there, and whoa. When did Ryan move closer, to...kissing distance?
"N-no. Stay. Please."
And the hope in those honey-tea eyes makes my heart swell and the pleading manner of his tone makes my head tilt into the greatest kiss I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. (Granted that it’s my first but holy shit. )