In case y'all wanna know, this, with changed things, will be my story for English class. I thought it was interesting enough to make it there.
Warnings: Cursing mainly.
Ages: Y'all would like to know, wouldn't you?
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No one's PoV.
There's a darkness that consumes him once he's away; he's sure there's something wrong but it feels too darn good to think about. His skin is as light as they come; clothes darker than black itself, eyes blue with an angry angel trapped in by the smug devil. He's always been a kind person, this hasn't changed that, this has mainly changed how he sees himself.
There's a lightness as the door creeks open; the scent is thick in the air. It's circling him, telling him that there isn't a worry in the world... it's almost dark all the while being comforting, a sinful one to like.
If he had to describe that scent it would be a thick mix of a homely smell he had at home, one that makes him think he can just lay down and stop thinking about his life; stop living it in fact, just sit around and do nothing.
There's something he places expertly as burning wood. He could associate it with a forest fire; it's just that. It takes; just like the scent. It's mesmerising. And somehow it gives him the feel of not needing to give back as much as he does. He's done good already; putting himself above others wouldn't hurt. Yet it does make him strangely hungry in a way, maybe it's power. He can't explain it.
There's a sharp one in there. He struggles to identify it but it's ready to attack. He's not aggressive but it does give him the feel to protect what's his and what he wants. Be it fists or kicks or others.
Then there's the one he love, oh he adores it. He's not sure what it is and it will surely drive him crazy. Damn he wants it; whatever it is. He wants it all to himself.
There's a softer scent some would struggle to get from between these strong ones. It's surely amazing to anyone, a childish one somewhat. Makes him miss running around; he's too far gone by now. He wishes he could do all those things and looks at kids with what feels like a sting at his heart.
The next one makes him strangely proud of himself, maybe he's a bit like a wolf in the scent almost marking his territory for him. It's an oily one, probably some oil you use to take care of furniture. Whatever it is, he knows it's from him and he damn will never let anyone else have that honour.
Last one is something that drives him insane. He wants it, damnit, he wants all of it. He wants to have the scent everywhere he goes. It makes him feel good for a moment but when he steps out, BAM, nothing left. He needs it, every inch of his body needs it.
All around; the thing wraps around his head. When he leaves, he becomes his sweet self. But right there, with this thing that makes him feel so damn good, gets him so hooked, gets so many side reactions out of him, he feels incredible yet somewhat evil. He wants to wash it off as soon as he leaves but no use, he wants more of it each time he leaves. It's insane how much of this shit he wants to breathe in at once. He wants to be consumed in the inviting smoke and wants to feel like he's floating for forever and ever and ever; he wants to stay in this room of gorgeous scents.
There's a tightness at his chest as he sees her; probably the human version of the invisible smoke. She's tall, towering over him at maybe 6'1 feet, her eyes are like does but there's a sadistic and tone deaf part to them; they're a red brown nonetheless. An inviting colour mixed with something unnatural. Her hair is almost ready to reach her shoulder; all brushed to one side. It's coloured; a natural ginger with a blackness consuming that furious and head strong colour in an embrace of darkness and uncertainty. Right at the top, the hair is white. It's not a pure colour, it's an eraser. It's there to destroy the red but the black must consume the red first, the hair alone speaking volumes as to how important it feels to quit; to never come into this damned house again. Her body is scarier. It started out natural, now it's so thin he feels he could crush her waist with one of his hands. She hides it well, clothed in dresses and baggy clothes. Her face is still a kind one, one that isn't as thin as a stick. Thinness is okay, he thinks it's completely fine... but take the least weighing human being alive, cut that weight in half.... and you get the girl right here. She's gorgeous nonetheless. She started out incredible, he couldn't stop saying hi and coming in. But the more he came around the more ruined the girl became, that made him feel so shitty when he went outside but in this room he becomes so selfish, so incredibly frustrated by the scents that he can't think about what he isn't. He can't think about other things than himself.
He grabs her arms and boosts himself up, grabbing onto her before going in for a kiss. That kiss burns his lungs like Hell and makes a blackness travel down the girl; it engulfing the girls once ginger hair in a black. Yet the girl shows no signs of noticing... or it being a bad thing at least. It looks normal to her; she looks normal to herself. And that's where he's the same; he thinks he's normal to enter this room, that it's a great thing. And when he doesn't, he has to come back in. He can't stay too long; she kicks him out; warns him.
But the darkness outside, while feeling good, has nothing on the lightness of the room....
....neither having anything on the tightness of his chest.