Short stories: beginnings can turn to endings (one shots)

His favorite color

His favorite color is blue,
That is not all I know about him.
I know his name, Jace that's all I know at the moment, but who knows I might learn a bit more when I be-friend him.

His laugh makes me forget everyone around us, his contagious blown-out laughter makes me feel light-headed, and yet I'm still filled with butterflies in my stomach.

His eyes, those soft brown eyes they make me feel safe, those brown eyes.
Those eyes who become this golden honey color in the sun.
Most people say that the eyes are the windows to your soul, I finally see why, all of his emotions are broadcasted to me through his eyes I see happiness, pain, amusement, and sometimes blazes of fire.
those eyes make me feel so secure.

I find myself staring at him again and I chastise myself 'he cannot catch you staring, you'll weird him out' but he simply attracts my gaze again, again and again
His chiseled jawline, a thing that attracts girl's attention everywhere.

His soft-looking brown hair, fluffy and inviting to touch I imagined myself running my hand through his hair a million times over and over again.

His style is the best, I am convinced that he is the best-dressed guy I know, he's always tidy except for his worn-out black converse, who are ruined they're tattered from his skating from place to place.

His most prized possessions are his skateboard and black leather jacket, conveniently they are the two things he always carries around.
The skateboard proves to Me that his shoes aren't the only ones that are scruffy because the skateboard is in the same condition as his shoes, even though they are shabby they are his most prized possessions.

I look into his warm eyes that make me lose myself in them.
He makes me feel secure while we are laying on my bed as well as listening to music, his music taste makes me feel this warmth in my chest.
He told me that music helps him it makes everything quiet for a while And I couldn't bring myself to ask him why would he need quiet but I hold my tongue.

He is holding my hand, we are walking through the park in addition to that he is holding my hand, they are warm but are decorated with rings the cool silver was an interesting contrast to his warm, warm hands.
I find myself interested in what would be the feeling of his hands around my throat I shake that idea out of my head and continue walking with his hand in mine.

He kissed me, we danced in the rain and he kissed me.
With a small peck on my lips, I lay in bed while recalling the events in my head.
His breath was minty and cool against my lips, His lips were red and soft and when they were on mine he was tender my head was floating and he held my neck from the back with his one hand pulling me close as the other one held my hand he kept me grounded.

He let me burrow his hoodie.
We are currently sitting on a bench near the annual fair, the trees are lit with fairy lights that are wrapped securely around them.
It's the winter's fair which probably explains the cold.
I only wore a thin blue top and tight black jeans I forgot to dress properly because of a fight I had with my parents but none of this matters because I'm with him.
His hoodie smells just like him, minty, fresh with a hint of his cologne.

I walk side by side with him, our smiles are attached to our faces and nothing can take them off of our faces.
I am relaxed because he is right by my side and nothing can beat that.

He has a charming personality, he holds my hand and kissing my knuckles reassuringly with every step we take as well as when we lay next to each other, whether it's on my bed, his bed, the green grass, and sometimes the beach.

He has a way with words, he's very persuasive.
he has a silver tongue, he can cut enemies with words.
Except he uses his words to make me melt instead, his deep rich voice makes me feel all fuzzy inside, he reads to me, sings to me, and sometimes When he nuzzles his face into my neck and gives me light butterfly kisses enjoyable giggles leave my mouth.
I enjoy these stolen moments when he is mine.

He loves kissing me in certain places my neck, knuckles, behind the ear, on my forehead, and my cheeks.
When he kisses me randomly butterflies fill my stomach blush covers my cheeks and he is content as I am.

There are never dull moments whenever I'm with him

And now his hands are wrapped around my throat and I can't breathe, his hands are warm, yet the rings on his fingers are cold.
His hands send chills down my body and make my hairs stand, his hair is still fluffy and soft to touch those brown soft curls that I love.
His eyes those warm eyes that used to broadcast his happiness and other emotions, those eyes that made me feel content, secure and warm.

Those eyes are now filled with a raging fire, fires that once kept me calm how could those blazes turn into forest fires.
He's fed up, he's irritated
and I cry out.

He's frustrated I don't know why he is frustrated and I do not ask, I cannot ask I do not want to open my mouth so I look up, up into his eyes.

I see sorrow but I do not think of reasons to be sorrowful, I want to reach out to him but I'm damaged, he's damaged, we are damaged.
I'm losing the feeling in my hands, I can no longer feel my legs,
The air isn't flowing to my head anymore and I turn blue.

blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.

I look straight into his eyes as the world turns black I think to myself about one thing, and one thing only,
I'll finally be his favorite color,
His favorite color is blue but that is not all I know about him.
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