𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 #2
She was addicted to a type of sadness that pulled her deeper into her hole. She changed herself because of her hanging past. He avoided the dark parts of his life, doesn't mean the darkness didn't loom over him.
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BRIANNA
I thought I was hearing things at first until he walked into the room. His eyes trained on me as he stepped in. His atmosphere was full of darkness and hatred, I could feel it. His dark brown hair, his piercing sugar grey eyes, his plump pink lips, he was so pretty it hurt. He stepped toward me and I could smell the fresh air on him. He ran a hand through his long brown locks.
"Excuse me?" Was all I could muster up, having been off-gaurd.
"Are you going to play?" He gestured to the piano and I looked to it. The keys again were cold, begging for my touch.
"Well, I've been trying to play for a while now but I can't because of this— "
"Yes or no, I don't care for why." He cut me off. My eyes widened in surprise because no one has ever spoken to me like that.
His words. They were blunt and quite frankly, rude but they cut through my heart like a blade. No one had ever told me that they didn't care. Never upfront. Everyone was always sweet with me and rightfully so.
"Then why did you ask?" Provoking, that's what I'm doing.
"To see if you were going to play, not hear about your never ending family problems." He rolls his eyes and steps over to the piano.
"You think everyone needs to hear your sob story." His sugar grey eyes set on my lips as I unintentionally lick them. "Half of the time people really didn't ask."
He pressed on one of the keys.
"Do you know me?" I squint my eyes to try and see him.
"Enough to know you're full of yourself." He had this fair porcelain skin that my hands itched to feel.
"Well you're full of shit." I was full of it, why hadn't I moved out of this seat? Why hadn't I slapped him and stormed out of here?
He didn't say anymore when he pressed a few more keys. His fingers danced so gently on the keys. His veins trailed up his hand and dissapeared into the sleeve of his black hoodie. He played a small tune and turned around to leave.
"You're an asshole, did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Some." He kept walking. He made it to the door and walked out. I grab my bag and suddenly feel a weight on my heart.
He wasn't to be liked and he knew it. He knew that I was infuriated by him, maybe that's what he wanted. Part of me wanted him to come back so I could feel again. He made this feeling intense and I was already addicted. He truly infuriated me. His words did more than taint me, they cut me. He dished everything out on a cold plate.
