maybe if she had been called beautiful before with so much drive, she wouldn't have been so
stuck
on the one drunk boy from the street.
but he had meant it in such a way―
she was doomed right from the start.
༻❁༺
―on a girl with bad days, the first b...
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END.
he wasn't going to go to the airport with her. it wouldn't have been very Morrison of him to give her such
finality.
but Tyler.
of course he had insisted on the two of them seeing her off.
he was so much warmer, kinder, brighter than her dark-haired wonder.
that was why Marguerite had two lovely boys to watch her go. not a single other soul. her parents had stayed home, said "goodbye" to her when she walked out the door like she would be back in a few hours. of course, it was more than they usually said to her.
the black box that belonged to the dark-souled boy was waiting for her when she exited the dreaded house.
her "friends" hadn't seen her off either. she received one text. "safe travels and have fun!" it had read. one text out of at least five false girls she had associated with during school hours.
all of that culminated to the two boys watching her go now. Tyler kept embracing her, warmly, soothingly, while Morrison looked on with one of his typical solemn expressions.
after some time, Tyler excused himself, said he would go get airport food so Morrison could "say his goodbyes to his girl."
his girl.
in all the time they'd spent together, Morrison had never truly called her his and only his. had it ever crossed his mind? had he ever wanted to?
she doubted it.
but Tyler scurried off, leaving the two of them in thick, piercing
s i l e n c e.
and perhaps because this would probably be the last time she ever laid eyes on the vision with deep dark eyes—and if she ever did see him again, they simply wouldn't be the same—she smiled, boldly. "don't you have anything to say to your girl?"
in the most vulnerable movements she'd ever seen out of him completely sober, he crossed the distance between them in grand strides to t a n g l e his rough hands in her soft hair and kiss her, a kiss unlike any they'd shared before, because now jack daniels wasn't there to force his emotions out of him, now this was him in all his sober desperation, and Marguerite had never seen him this way before and
never would again.
their final kiss broke, and her arms instantly went to their favorite place around his neck to pull his body flush against hers, and his head found its way to her collarbone, and there were so many purple blossoms there, and he would never plant any more,
but that wouldn't stop him from placing gentle, tender kisses to them, to keep them growing until they would wither and die out completely.
from this closed space, Marguerite uttered her final goodbyes to him,
and from this closed space, Morrison whispered a name in her ear, shakily, and
it was the name he'd been born with, and she knew that without his explanation, and it broke her heart, shattered it,
that her vision, her Morrison, was no more.
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