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12 : onism
"We all bear scars...
Mine just happen to be more visible than most."
- Sarah J. Maas, 'Throne of Glass'
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onism (n) :
the awareness of how little of the world you'll experience
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I WOKE UP TO THE FEELING of my head propped against his broad shoulder, Conrad's head resting indolently above my head and the subtle hum of a heart-rending indie song against my ear. Although I often thought his head's weight was akin to a metric tonne, to say the least, I didn't find our position intolerable nor was I fraught because of how gravely close he was. I chose to believe the reason behind it was out of sheer exhaustion.
Perhaps when I tried to shift my head delicately to unplug my earphones and stare at the sun-drenched sky, my movement stirred him awake. I felt his head rise from my own as he straightened himself up to face me with a look of tomfoolery descending his features.
A small smile hinted at his features as he angled his body to face me. In the manner of doing so, his knee brushed inadvertently against mine. "What happened to 'I'd rather not, but thanks for the offer'?" he satirised my inflection with a frisky tone embedded to his voice that was marginally gruff from sleep and deeper by a notch or so.
"I mean, you also rested your head against mine," I quipped with the beginnings of a smile on my face, shoving an accusing finger in his direction. "I'm not the only one at fault here."
"You can't help but admit that my shoulder's quite comfortable, right?" he teased airily, making a show of dotingly stroking his shoulder, which had me chuckling indistinctly.
"I can't help but admit that your shoulder's too bony to even be comfortable," I retorted, casting a look of feigned disapproval on his 'comfortable' shoulder. "I didn't have a choice either since you're the next bearable thing compared to this uncomfortable headrest."
Although he attempted to make his features somber, a grin threatened at the corners of his lips. "I don't know if I should be worried that you're objectifying me or if I should be disheartened that you called me bony or that you just said that a business class seat is 'uncomfortable'."
"Well, at least you have good taste in music. I'd give you that at least," I attempted, soft-soaping him with a tight-lipped smile on my lips and a faint raise of my eyebrow. "And, well, if anything, my bed's a hell of a lot comfier than this."
His hand instinctively flew to his chest, as though to place it smack dab above his heart as an indication of gratitude on my part. "It's been around five days since we've met and I gathered that you can destroy my ego and make it go up a notch or so right after. I don't know how you do it."
I briefly reacted with a subtle raise of my shoulders after he quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'well, how do you do it exactly?' and said, "Oh you see, I'm not as heartless as you think I am, so whenever you have that sad look on your face, I feel a little bad and compliment you on something general."
YOU ARE READING
The Love Interests
Teen Fiction"You're beginning to sound like the person you vowed never to become." This is the story where one wrong decision leads to a dozen of others. Even if Scarlett tries to compensate for everything she's done, it all spirals downward.
