texting » styles

throat

hi ava, wanna meet?

ava?

you've been ignoring my text all week, what's wrong?

did i do something?

no, harry, not at all, sorry i was just busy. did you quit smoking already?

yes i did. did you leave him already?

no i didn't. i love him.

haz?

yeah?

are you okay?

yes i am, just hate seeing girls getting hurt. 

'Haz' is offline

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The next time Ava saw him, she was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria of her university. Her Ipod nano, the one she borrowed from her older brother, boosted 'home' by morgxn in her earphones while she saw him glide through the aisle. Her first response was to laugh, because the song perfectly reflected the scene in front of her. Heads turned around, the eyes of all the girls, tearing up, the anger on the men's faces. It was a perfect 'all eyes on the hottie' moment, she later described in her dairy. His feet hitting the ground at every note, a smirk lying on his chapped lips. He wore his usual dark jacket draped around a white tshirt and some unidentifiable black leather pants. To all the girls he may have seemed like the perfect bad boy, but Ava new better. Because bad boys, often have a dark side you do not want to know of.

It had been a few weeks since their last text conversation. Harry had been busy creating music and making art, Ava, as different as she may have seemed, had done the exact same thing. The only difference between the two, was that the art harry created, all somehow revolved around the dark skinned girl he had met. His lyrics told the story of the sadness in her eyes, his art reflecting her small fingers around his throat. 

After the first chorus of the song, Ava's brain told her to look away. She would not, in any way, pay attention to him, she remembered herself. He is not worth it. And so wasn't she. Chase luckily took her mind of the curly haired boy, who was now standing in line to get his favourite ham and cheese sandwich. As Harry turned around, he felt the anxiety filling his lungs, his toes curl, and the long anticipated dark hands wrap around his throat. Even though every single person, many girls way better looking then the brown queen on the corner of the cafeteria, looked at him, he could only look at his lips on hers. His filthy, adulterous lips on hers. 

Minutes later, Harry walked through the forbidden fire exit, taking three deep breaths as he felt his heart pumping in his ear. "Hello there, old friend" he whispered as he took out a cigarette and lit it, his face showing a mix of anger and sadness throughout the tears he had been hiding for so long. 

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not edited, but written completely sober.