You Buckled Up Your Heart

Addict With a Pen❥10

Jenna was sprawled across the couch in her favourite sweater, and her comfiest sweat pant, flipping through the channels. She didn't know when Tyler was coming over, but it didn't matter she had already spread out everything they need to work on the project on the floor of her bedroom, she didn't expect him until at least noon, and right now it was only 10:30am. But then she heard a car drive in.

Jenna scrambled to her feet and peered out the window, she watched Tyler park his car, and step out of it. He was wearing a black t-shirt, and ripped black skinny jeans. She looked down at her own appearance and suddenly became very self-conscious. She tore out of the living room, and up the stairs to her bedroom. She heard Tyler knock, she quickly texted him.

Jenna- Hey, I heard you knock, you can come in, it's open. I'm just in my room changing, be down in minute, you chill in the living room.

Baby boy- Okay, cool

Jenna pulled on her own pair of black skinny jeans, and a white Fall Out Boy tee, with just the band's logo on it. Careful not to step on any of the english work, she had on her floor, she made her way back downstairs. She found Tyler laid out on the couch, where she had been moments before, flipping through channels.

"You really know how to make yourself at home," Jenna commented, leaning on the door to the living room's framework. Tyler sat up grinning.

"It's a talent," 

Jenna laughed, letting a smile creep it's way onto her lips.

"So, uh, english project?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, I got it all laid out on my bedroom floor, so wanna go up there?"

"Jenna Black, are you inviting me up to your bedroom?" He put on a scandalous look, placing his hand over his heart. She smiled at him, then his eyes widened, and he looked embarrassed. "Sorry I didn't mean to make a joke like that, you know after last night," Tyler was staring a his feet.

"Oh! No! It was funny!" Jenna smiled, "I really didn't find it offensive, Tyler I'm fine. I was just a little shaken up last night, I didn't expect anything like that, you know?"

"Are you sure?" Tyler had walked toward her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I just feel... sort of gross. Like that, um, his hands were on me... It was my fault though, I shouldn't have been so trusting of him." Jenna explained, she was wringing her hands because this conversation was getting very awkward.

"It's not your fault Jenna!" Tyler's eyes flashed with anger. "It's his fault, he did it, it's all that asshole's fault." Jenna nodded, and looked down, she really wanted to stop talking about it.

"Yeah, okay. Umm, do you want to work on the project now?" She asked.

"Sure," Tyler replaced the anger in his face, with his usual positive expression.

They headed up to her room, and Tyler flopped onto her bed, while Jenna sat on the floor leaning her back against the bed.

"So where's your poem?" She asked.

"Oh right here!" Tyler pulled his red backpack off his back, and dug through it for a minute, before producing a crisp white piece of paper, and handed it to her. "Where's yours?" Jenna picked hers up off the floor and handed it to Tyler before reading his poem.

Tyler's poem

Down in the forest
We'll sing a chorus
One that everybody knows
Hands held higher,
We'll be on fire
Singing songs that nobody wrote.

Quickly moving towards a storm
Moving forward, torn
Into pieces over reasons
Of what these storms are for
I don't understand why everything I adore
Takes a different form when I squint my eyes
Have you ever done that?
When you squint your eyes
And your eyelashes make it look a little not right
And then when just enough light
Comes from just the right side
And you find you're not who you're supposed to be?

This is not what you're supposed to see
Please, remember me. I am supposed to be
King of a kingdom or swinging on a swing
Something happened to my imagination
This situation's becoming dire
My tree house is on fire
And for some reason I smell gas on my hands
This is not what I had planned
This is not what I had planned.

Down in the forest
We'll sing a chorus
Hands held higher,
We'll be on fire
Singing songs that nobody wrote.