𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋//𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐗𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

"I think that you taste like rock candy"- Watercolor eyes by Lana Del Rey

Y/n's Dream Sequence:

Another dream-memory, or memory-dream, whatever these things were. I watched myself scribble note after note, sliding them under the door to wait patiently. My note was then exchanged with a new one that would slide back towards me.

My pen pal made thirteen year old me warm and delirious. I could sense a crush forming in my younger self.

What's your favorite color?
- anonymous
P.S. You looked pretty today in your sky box in the cafeteria

My favorite is green, but like a light green. Why do you ask?- y/n
P.S. Why do you always use p.s.???

Green, makes sense. Mine's red.
I don't know why I asked, I just wanted to know. What did you do with drawing I gave you?- anonymous
P.S. The reason I use p.s. is none of your business, at least not yet.

Red, nice. You're kind of nosy for someone who won't tell me who they are. The drawing is in my pillowcase, no one checks there. My turn to ask a question. What color are your eyes?
- y/n

You're kind of funny for someone everyone calls snotty and stuck up. I like that about you. I saw you again today, when you were passing through the halls. I bet you wonder who I am, don't you? Do you look at every kid below you at lunch wondering who the hell I am?
-anonymous
P.S. I'll leave my eye color up to your imagination.

Wow, thanks for the compliment (not really, who wants someone to tell them that people think they're stuck up and snotty?!?!). I can't do this anymore, I have to know who you are! You're right, it drives me fucking crazy thinking you could be anyone. Sneak off and meet me tomorrow in the garden shed at 11:30? Everyone will be eating and distracted. Also in my imagination you have red eyes hahaha.
-y/n

Shit. Fine. You're probably setting me up and I'm the dumbest fucking person in the world. You'll probably hate my face when you see me. You asked for this so you better not complain when we meet.
-anonymous (aka the not so secret admirer)
P.S. I know you overheard Paul and Victor yesterday. Don't listen to them, they're certified idiots.

My younger self was over the moon, unable to erase the smile crinkling up my face. I chewed on my pen, thoughts slewing in the way they had signed their name. I went to bed thinking of nothing but my not so secret admirer.

The next vision my brain presented me with was me outside of the garden shed. Sunlight kissed my skin, light softly shining down on me as I twisted the handle. I was so nervous, so excited, so thrilled, my skin was buzzing. I'd run the scenario over and over in my mind, each outcome clanking around my head like loose ball bearings.

Questions crawled upon my flesh, itching at my brain. Who was this person? Why did they find me so special? What did they look like? Why did the like me?

The door of the shed creaked open. A boy, turned away and hunched over some kind of work, took hold of my eyes. He tensed up from hearing me enter. The boy peaked over his shoulder, revealing his identity.

"A-nine?" Blurted from my mouth, my brain forgot it's filter when it saw his face. Stunned and wide eyed, I pressed my back against the door, unable to break my stare.

"I have a name. I'm more than a subject number, you know." A surly look screws up his face. I cursed myself mentally, my first interaction with my not so secret admirer and I'd already offended him.

"Sorry." I rushed my words out, nimbly fidgeting with my hands. "Gally, right? That's your name?"

"Correct." He set down the pencil he carried on a garden shelf, brushing his hands off on his pants. The boy shoved them in his pockets, stepping toward me. "And you're y/n. You're the girl who was born with a silver spoon in her hand."

Now it was my turn to get offended, his demeanor bruising me.

"Is that it? What, do you think you know me? Do you think you can read me like a book or some kind of pretentious bourgeoisie thing like that?"

"Have I been wrong so far?"

"Well no but-"

"But there's more to you then that, isn't there?" Gally's thumbs looped in his belt loops, flexing around. He was cocky, a bit of a loner in his youth. "I know. Everyone else can't see it, but I can."

"What makes you so sure? How do you know I'm not stuck up and think I'm better than all of you?" I challenged, raising my chin up. My own feisty spark bloomed against his statements.

"Cuz of this." He held out his hand, not yet calloused with his future in building. I gazed at it, leaving him outstretched, waiting for me. He cocked up one of his brows. "Well are you gonna take it?"

I got over my hesitant slump, giving him my hand. He led me down to the floor, the place where he'd been working on a drawing. So far, he'd only gotten to the eyes, one's that didn't look too different from my own.

"Is that- Um- Is that me?" My heart raced a little when I asked, knowing that I'd flush with embarrassment if it wasn't. The fact that he hadn't let go of my hand wasn't helping to slow my pulse either. If Ava saw this she'd probably have an aneurism.

It was the first time that a boy had ever touched me besides Thomas. I didn't count Victor and Paul though, as far as I could tell, they were both scum.

"Yeah, do you like it?"

"It's really good." I couldn't help but get a little flustered by how self assured he was. "Um- Uh- It's really realistic. I could never do that."

"Sure you could."

"No, no I definitely couldn't."

"You could," Gally slipped another pencil out of his pocket, placing it in my dominant hand. "With enough practice." He slid closer to me, settling slightly behind me as he began to guide my sloppy hand across the paper. My mind was far from drawing. All I could concentrate was on how close he was, how his chin hovered over my shoulder, and how much I liked it. "See, you're doing it already."

Gally let my hand go, pulling back from me, creating space between us once again. He tilted his chin at me, eyes gliding over my features. My face burned, I turned away, not able to keep our eye contact.

"What was the thing that made you so sure?" I mumbled, the pencil falling from my hand. "You know, about me?"

"This." He tapped on the drawing, scooting a little closer. "Your eyes. They're always so sad when you look at the other kids. The rest of your face is normal, controlled, but your eyes are always sad." Gingerly, he brought his fingers up to my face, leaning in to brush my hair out of it. "You know you're pretty, right? You're kind of like my muse. I only like drawing things that are beautiful."

His sweet words were contrary to everything I'd experienced with the other kids and how they'd treated me. Blood rushed to my ears, a pounding heartbeat joining it, the organ making a thick noise as it thunked against my rib cage.

"Are you lying?" I murmured, heat scalding my skin. If this had been some idea of a practical joke, I'd have no choice but to kill myself. That is, if the embarrassment didn't do me in.

"No." Gally shook his head, a small smile turning up his lips. "Not now." His affirmation filled me with an unspeakable amount of euphoria, more than three words should. My neck went limp, resting itself on his shoulder, head prodding into the crevice of his neck.

"Cool."