[ but she sees his face sliding onto the screen of her phone, sees the way he smiles at her, and all the worry and anxiety just floods out. she repeats the words, almost like a mantra: i would never, she tells him, and this time it really is a laugh, cut short by her mumbling hang on a sec as she drops the phone screenside up onto the bed. he gets a nice view of the ceiling of her room — are those water stains? — for a minute or so, the background noise of her scrambling and huffing a bit, and then,
her face, still smiling, wiping under her eyes with the side of her hand, palm up to her knuckles covered by his sweater. because, yeah, she's still wearing that goddamn sweatshirt and nothing fucking else, and her hair's a tousled mess in a ponytail that's way too loose and she's not wearing any makeup and she knows she looks a goddamn sight — but she doesn't care, not right now, not when her heart is doing stupid loop-de-loops in her chest as he smiles that fond, obnoxiously endearing smile in her direction through the webcam of his laptop.
fuck her, she's ruined. ]
I would go to Newark right now if it meant I got you all to myself.
[ and that, dear reader, is love — six months too early and definitely not invited to any variety of conscious thought, but love all the same. ]
i use this icon so rarely, can you believe
[ but she sees his face sliding onto the screen of her phone, sees the way he smiles at her, and all the worry and anxiety just floods out. she repeats the words, almost like a mantra: i would never, she tells him, and this time it really is a laugh, cut short by her mumbling hang on a sec as she drops the phone screenside up onto the bed. he gets a nice view of the ceiling of her room — are those water stains? — for a minute or so, the background noise of her scrambling and huffing a bit, and then,
her face, still smiling, wiping under her eyes with the side of her hand, palm up to her knuckles covered by his sweater. because, yeah, she's still wearing that goddamn sweatshirt and nothing fucking else, and her hair's a tousled mess in a ponytail that's way too loose and she's not wearing any makeup and she knows she looks a goddamn sight — but she doesn't care, not right now, not when her heart is doing stupid loop-de-loops in her chest as he smiles that fond, obnoxiously endearing smile in her direction through the webcam of his laptop.
fuck her, she's ruined. ]
I would go to Newark right now if it meant I got you all to myself.
[ and that, dear reader, is love — six months too early and definitely not invited to any variety of conscious thought, but love all the same. ]