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C o m m u o v e r e
/kommwoˈvɛːre/
(v.) to stir, to touch, to move to tears,
♡♡♡
When I saw you, I feel in love, and you smiled because you knew.
♡♡♡
In memory of Alan Rickman - you are my hero.
Always.
♡♡♡
She remembered.
She remembered how his touch felt like the spider web delicacy of warm breaths on a rainy morning; remembered how his lips felt like the cotton candy tickle of clouds and sugary tint of caramel.
She remembered Aaron.
She remembered the skies in his eyes and the slopes of his shoulders and the mountains of his back; relished in the curves of his collarbones and the arch of his neck. She recollected the smell of his chest and the smoothness of his hair and the point of his cheekbones and his porcelain skin and his his his –
She remembered how beautiful he was.
She remembered how his warm breaths always tingled the exposed skin of her shoulder and how the hairs on his arms always tickled her back and neck.
She remembered.
And now that she remembered –now that Aaron was back, she was drowning herself in him all over again.
It was never suppose to be this easy –I will lose him the next time I see him– never suppose to be some kind of pathetic apology stunt that could heal Rose's wounds that quickly.
But Aaron was different –he always was.
When she opened the front door only to see his eyes of lapis and cerulean, she knew what her strategy would be –Get out of here Aaron, I never want to see you again– and the memorized scripts that Rose said again and again in front of the mirror was just about to pass her mouth, already at the crevices on her lips –but she just couldn't say it.
His blue eyes held so much regret –so much despair, that no matter how much Rose tried to remind herself on what he did –He left you like you were nothing, he left you left you left you– the sincere guilt in his eyes blew away any thoughts of leaving that Rose stitched into her system for the past week.
She'd like to think that Aaron's eyes were her weakness –but then again, Aaron himself was her kryptonite.
Because he was the boy she loved; a little dark, a little rough around the edges, but beautiful all the same.
"Do you get it now Rose?" He said, swallowing harshly. "I never –I never want you to think that I would leave you like that." He took in a breath. "I would never leave you like that."
She traced the lines of his arms with the tip of her fingers, exhaling out a small breath. "Of course I get it Aaron," She replied. "I mean –I mean like that's fucked up in ways that my mental capacity can't even comprehend."
A small smile tickled his lips. "Did you just curse?"
"That's not the point right now,"
He was smiling now –smiling so brightly as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way things were. "Then what's the point right now?"
YOU ARE READING
Hers | ✔ | (Editing)
Teen Fiction❝I know love can be as pointless as it is to Nancy, and perhaps even as revolting as it is to Bill Sikes, but for me, I don't think it would be half as bad with you.❞ Somehow he always knew he was hers, He just needed a reason to believe it was...
