Yugto

He called her name but Aba wanted to ignore him, to distance herself, to be sheltered from the pain. Yet her heart had betrayed her mind once more as she obediently looked up from the textbook she was reading and faced the same pair of orbs that haunted her at night. They beckoned to her like a siren's song from jagged rocks. They were pools of whiskey that dulled her senses, forming clouds that drifted lazily over her thoughts. With her poor heart captured again, an indescribable feeling that was all too real washed over her. But she was already bathed in intoxication, and in her stupor, he became the flame and she, the moth.