"You bought me for a night, you don't own me."
"Then why did you scream my name like I was yours?"
Silk Sheets
-a novel about a girl who sees herself only as worthy as the pleasure she can give someone else-
NOT A Y/N STORY NOT A SHIPPING STORY NOT...
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"Flower fell to the ground You call me flower before You call me flower before And I wanna love come down I wanna break down Fall down, fall down" X-Lee Hi
(Read Red Rubies after you're finished with this book. It is the sequel to silk sheets. But wait for the chapters to be all posted)
Celine walked along the sidewalk, earbuds pressed tightly into her ears. She pressed her coat tightly around her, an evident scowl on her face as she walked against the chilly wind. Pink fur on her coat floating around her eyes, teasing her with the promise of spring and cherry blossoms. It was already late November, and it was like the world began to rust away.
Just as before,
Celine wasn't easily romanticized by anything.
The loud people on the streets. The bustling shops and stores that lined the cement. Twinkling lights and giant green reefs that were put up to early in light of "holiday spirit".
It might as well have been a blank sheet of paper to her. A smooth confine of nothingness.
Though the girl had made a resolve to be more positive, today was a bad day.
For all week, she had been heckled everywhere she went. Called a home wrecker. A slut. A lying skank. Told she should be ashamed for trying to ruin the Jeon's reputation.
Jin had been there for her. The others as well. They had all supported her and helped to make light of the situation. Taehyung chased a reporter away from Celine with one of his Gucci slides. Yoongi hosed someone down on his front yard. Hoseok and Jin tackled a photographer to the ground.
"You did the right thing. One day people will believe it. One day they will thank you." They said. Time and time again.
Celine had many doubts about the validity of that statement. Scared, that he would get away with it. Like he had done many times before.
But there was more on her mind than that. Deeper than any stranger could know about her from the outside. She didn't care about what the world said.
One person hasn't thanked her yet.
She cared about the people who were close to her.
Missing someone was more than a simple goodbye.
It a constant fear of losing memories of them. Holding onto every moment as if they are constantly trying to escape. Grasping for the essence of who the person was, and not just instances that occurred in-between. It like starting a portrait, and trying to finish it without the person sitting directly in front of you.
