busy weekends (caught up in small worlds)

── ⋆⋅2⋅⋆ ──

astrid found himself back in his apartment, his words trailing away as he took a sip of the soup he had ladled into his bowl-like mug.
the other two were frozen in shock at his story, hot chocolate cold and forgotten.
he ignored their unhealthy beginning of obsession in his barely-active love-life and tore off a piece of bread, throwing it out the window for the pigeon perched on the windowsill to follow. it shut soon after. the sky was cloudy and grey that morning.
"how dare you."
astrid gave an annoyed sigh, moving back over to the couch. briar had been giving him an intense glare, one that could've shred him to ribbons if he even so wanted it to. but even the very threat of it was absurd enough.
"what now?"
"what now? what now? give me your fucking phone-"
   "for what?"
a harsher glare.
he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the gaze. zach offered no opinion, only nodding intently despite the rather... fatherly smile on his face, "and then?"
astrid's lips curved into a grin, "then..."

"what's your name?" he asked rather foolishly. she had sat on the top of the piano. the library looked as if it was pulled from a detective film from an old 50s television. the last remnants of sunlight drew stars from behind the closed curtains, letting them dance and twirl on the porcelain tiled floors. the books, spines greyish-brown from the dust coated on them, were long ignored the moment his "date" heard the tune he played on the piano. 
grey november, i've been down since july... motion capture put me in a bad light... i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where i went wrong.. writing letters addressed to the fire...
she had joined him, sitting atop the polished surface. the cat's smile morphed into a soft grin. he found her leaning closer, watching her pupils dance to the way his fingers moved on the smooth keys. it seemed he had an audience.
after multiple exchanges of requesting songs and the rare occurrence of him not knowing the song she had asked for, the question came.
"... we said we would keep our identities a secret."
he recalled the ground rules of their "date";
- no kissing
- no talking to each other's friends for the rest of the wedding
- no knowing each other's identities
    - no trying to find each other after it was done
the disappointment washed over his senses. he was never going to see this woman ever again. this night was soon to be a scene playing over and over at the back of his mind every time he tries to love again. one part of him wanted to get on his knees, to beg at her to please tell me your name, i need to know who you are, i promise i wont fuck up whatever you'd want for us.
a voice suddenly rings outside, a voice calling out a name.
"astrid! can i go home? will you be okay alone here?" zach peeked his head from outside the door frame.
he nodded immediately, eyebrows creasing at his physique. his shirt was ruffled, distressed even. his hands were seemingly shaking from the exhaustion and anxiety. it was ophelia's surgery that day, he remembered. zach must have been stressing all night about his girlfriend.
"okay, thanks." and he soon seemed to disappear from the building.
astrid's eyes widdened as the realization dawned on him. zach had just said his name. he turned back to the girl, now drawing his attention to his lap, nervously laughing in embarrassment.
the red, heart-shaped lips curled into a smirk, "so... astrid... now that i actually know your name... i suppose its only fair to tell you mine." she giggled.
the blood on his cheeks released its colours with a vengeance, "no, no, its really fine, you don't have to-"
"i'm scarlette."
-scarlette.- her name was scarlette... of course. with hair as red as a match striking a love letter forged on deceit... he never would've guessed. pages and words may fly off the page of fable and not once has a red blot made its appearance.
he returned his eyes back to her face and was met with a joyful grin. she moved once, tossing her legs atop the instrument and sitting sideways. her smile shifted its shape. it was a lopsided grin, mischievous as the cheshire cat's, like her worst intentions with him started to root out.
he swallows hard, finding himself leaning in as if he were a boat man being lured by a siren's symphony. his head tilted halfway. soon, their breaths met in between soft puffs, her lipstick so close to branding itself on his lips, so close, he couldn't breathe. her eyes fluttered shut and his followed suit.
astrid questioned if the world stopped spinning for a moment. scarlette had froze before him, staying in her position, the tip of her nose brushing his. so close, he could almost taste her.
apple pie. apple pie and cherry blossoms. scarlette smelled like apples and cherry blossoms. the scent was so subtle but he felt like he'd been hit by a freight train by the perfume she wore.
his mind started to slip away. did the world wander off? did it take its sweet time to look down on them and tear them apart? the future flashed before him. a little girl with fiery pigtails and fierce black eyes, bearing a teddy bear as she swung on the swing. a woman wearing a sundress, plump, petally lips closing around a grape she had held. a man tapping his hand on the picnic table, his ring finger adorning a gold band. astrid noticed the same band on the woman's hand. was that... him and scarlette?
it felt like torture. so close, yet so far.
"astrid..." she whispered. his siren had pulled him out of the fantasy.
"yeah...?"
"... please don't kiss me..."