Head mistress must've seen how her eyebrows creased once having looked upon the journal. And the strange characters scrolled across it. "Amor verus numqam mortior. True love never dies."
Her voice faded into the background as I found myself drifting from the present reality. Why did those words sound so familiar to me? Faintly an image of a boy with disheveled dark hair and eyes like troubled deep seas makes an appearance in mind. But it is so swift that I cannot recall remembering at all.
"Deja vu!" Gola whispers to herself holding a temple, as to ward of an oncoming headache.
But Mrs. Laurent hadn't finished reading, "Resist your fate, like a mortal confronting death, but I am your end and you are mine."
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
——————
"YOU ARE HURT, LET ME SEE." Levi was the first thing Gola seen upon leaving the principles office. And she didn't know to be horrified or delighted.
"Goodness gracious boy! Make some noise when you walk." She cursed him.
He stalked after her, keeping to her side. Her eyes were wild and puffy, her lips pursed.
"Let me see." Levi repeated so quietly, that his hunger not be heard.
Gola just about threw the journal at him. And he caught it mid-air with ease. "You're in love with the youngest member of a boy group?" He snorted, beaming. "cute."
Gola Smith was tiny and her hair was fluffy. On good days she only posed a threat to stocked pantry's but in the moment she was vicious. "I will have you skinned and your bones boiled if you don't flip the page!"
His laughter was like stars twinkling in the sky. Melodious and true. It would have been easy for Gola to forget her anger had she not felt heat of shame on her cheeks.
But his joy died like fire and powder in his throat, laughter turned ashes on his tongue. His grin shrinking smaller and smaller until it vanished completely.
And what was left? Grief and melancholy.
He caressed the pages written over in elegant cursive almost lovingly. His eyes clouded over with anguished memories.
"When?" His inquired, his voice something between a low whisper and restrained sob.
Gola was dumbfounded by his sudden change in mood. She'd still been laughing. Bewildered, she might've uttered, "huh?"
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
