LOVER, s.stilinski

i. scarlet eyes

       The last noticeable thing that stood out to her before she inevitably passed out into a troubled slumber was the face of a boy she knew. The face of a boy who went by the name of Scott McCall.

LOVER

       MONDAY MORNING ROLLED AROUND FAR TOO QUICKLY FOR CHRISSY'S LIKING, THE LONGING FEELING to just stay in bed for a little while more was just too unbearable and overwhelming to ignore. It didn't help her case that a delicious scent of freshly cooked pancakes had drifted under the gap in her door and through the air of her room, the smell almost lulling her back to a wonderous sleep.

       "Christine, dear, are you awake?" There was a light knock to her door and the British, serene voice of her grandmother, Joyce Frenche, filtered through the wooden material. Even with the many attempts that Chrissy had took to convince her grandmother to let up on the full name, the older woman was resistant and stubborn, deciding it was a far better idea to address her granddaughter in a proper manner. "Well, too bad. I'm coming in anyway."

       Heaving a great sigh, Chrissy relieved herself of the suffocating blanket over her face and turned her head to watch the door whip open, revealing her grandmother. Joyce was a breath-taking woman, even now in her withered age. The fine hairs on her head were styled to perfection, and her angular face held barely any wrinkles, only a couple around the corners of her eyes and her lips. She had a smile that could shine for miles and her sharp cheekbones were pointy enough to hide her sunken cheeks from the glowing sun.

       "Oh, look at you." Joyce breathed, shuffling over to place her gaunt hands on the sides of Chrissy's face. "You look just as beautiful as ever."

       A rosy hue found its way to Chrissy's cheeks, and she gently pushed her grandma's hands away, averting her eyes to look at her feet. "Grandma, stop it. You know I don't know how to accept compliments."

       "Well, it's about time you learnt." Joyce reprimanded, turning her body to stretch her arms and release Chrissy from the confinements on her ankles. "I can imagine plenty of boys and girls will be lining up to try their hand with you this year. You don't want to be freezing up at the sight of their faces now, do you? I wonder how you'll ever give me some great grandbabies."

       It had become a fairly normal part of their morning routine from the time it had been instituted, the two women barely acknowledging the one thing others would find slightly confusing. But as long as it worked, they didn't care. As long as Chrissy didn't go wandering away from the home at the crack of dawn again, it didn't bother them.

       "Grandma! I doubt anyone would even want to talk to me," She groaned, sitting up to rub at the sore, inflamed skin, "and gross! Let alone have your 'great grandbabies' with me."

       Joyce just shook her head and patted Chrissy on the knee before making her way out of the room and down to the kitchen. "I've made you breakfast- your favourite if I'm not mistaken."

       At her convincing words, the blonde threw on a striped sweater and stumbled her way down the steep stairs, following the scent of delicious food and the morning fresh air.

       The kitchen was a large room with a high ceiling and immaculate vibes, the pristine counters reflecting the light from the open windows along the patterned walls. There was a minimalistic colour scheme throughout the room, different shades of greys and white blending effortlessly together. Hints of red were seen on the feature wall, little cherries painted on the squares of the tiles. At first, Chrissy had initially despised the decor of the space, claiming how it didn't match the rest of the house, but she had eventually loosened up to the idea of it after witnessing her grandmother dance around the space to the sound of 'The Beatles'.