𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 ౨ৎ

ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴀꜱꜱ- ʀᴀɪᴄʜɪ ᴊɪɴɢᴏ

now playing
step on me- the cardigans

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:47

♪  oh, I think you're holding the heart of mine
( my heart is yours ) squeeze it apart that's fine  ♪

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summary: in which, a pushover with a heart of glass falls inlove with a boy whose heart consists of malice - and it ends in catastrophe.

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If you said loving him was easy, you'd be lying. As a child, you were told you should love like you breathe - that it should come so naturally and fluently that it doesn't suffocate you.

Loving Raichi is in many ways, similar to being submerged under water . At first, you find peace in the warmth that engulfs your body. It brings you alleviation from the cold breeze that had bitten at your skin beforehand. But after a while, the warmth once so consuming, so dizzying, becomes a striking chill - and instead of having a substantial amount of breath, you suddenly feel strangled.

Your love, once so easy, one that blossomed at first - had now withered. You loved him. You weren't sure he could say the same. When you loved, your entire being parasited onto the focus of your affection. Most would say it's overwhelming, sickening.

But, you just weren't ready to have your heart torn apart once more. So, in the process of lathering him in your adoration, you guess you had also leeched all of his as well. He became shut-off after 7 months. He says he loves you, but he also says he hates you. It confuses you.

Pulling out your phone, you pressed his contact, wanting to re-confirm your plans for tonight. Though you were already ready for your date, you were too excited and were wondering if he could come earlier. Twirling your ringlet curls, you smoothed your black mini-dress out, and bit your lip in anticipation as the phone began to ring.

God, you couldn't wait to see him. You hoped with all the effort you had put into your looks tonight - that he'd find you pretty again. You had gotten too comfortable and began to get lazy with your appearance, he didn't like that and made sure you were abundantly aware. Maybe tonight, he'd fall inlove with you all over again. The fourth ring, the fifth, the sixth... Voicemail.

He could be doing anything, right? You'd wait until he planned to pick you up, you didn't want to disturb him by blowing up his phone. 
He might get mad and cancel your date. You hadn't seen each other in a month since he'd been busy. You understood, of course you did, but you still missed him dearly.

10 minutes late, you sent him a text. 20 minutes late, you tapped your fingers against your bare thigh, traffic maybe? 40 minutes drifted into an hour and spun into another. You were still waiting by your door. You only checked his location in emergencies.