She's always the girl smiling and laughing and oh-so very happy. Surrounded by a group of friends and admirers alike who attend to her every wish and whim, she's always the q u e e n, the person in the middle of the circle in her tighttighttight miniskirt and slouchy black books and kohl rimmed eyes with a not-so painted on smile. When she feels b r o k e n they piece her back together, like an eggshell she is delicate, but she has soso strong shoulders for others to lean on.
And she's never been one for relationships, because she h a t e s dependence (people always let you down, you know).
And she's firefirefire and a whirlwind of burning hair and glares and playful pushes. 'Cause he's her friend (nothing more, never anything more) and she loves him like a brother, they have inside jokes and plenty of reasons to laugh and he gives damn good massages.
She'll never be Juliet because she doesn't believe in Romeo but she still reads happyhappy romance novels with b e a u t i f u l girls. She's never been one for damsels-in-distress so she laughs at their silly swooning and only wishes (at night, when she's alone) that she could be rescued by a handsome knight in shineshineshining armor.
And it's the middle of the day, the sun is still pretty high in the blueblueblue-as-her-eyes sky but the air is chilly and her head is pounding. So she gives a little smile that makes him m e l t into a puddle and then rests her heavy head on his shoulders, and yeah, they're slightly too angular and not quiet perfectly comfortable but it doesn't really matter to her because she's so close to him she can hear his heart beatbeatbeating and it's bliss. And the world seems to stop turning just for a little bit, so perfectly still and quiet just for them. Her eyes droop down until they close and her breathing s l o w s into a steady rhythm and she allows her mind to wander to a place so far away but almost tangible where he confesses his love and kisses her. And she's always sworn that she'd never be the pathetic girl to fall at his feet (so unlike her cousins, she is) but she can't ignore the fact that she's his so totally and completely.
He can't think straight because her hand is tangled in his and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyelashes are brushing her cheeks. The world, for once, is p e r f e c t and peaceful. But his head is sagging and his eyes are fluttering shut and he is so tired of thinking of only one thing (herherher). And so his neck bows and he slips into a dream that's only a little better than the reality of their current closeness.
She opens her eyes to a blurry world, and glances over at his still form. Around them people are talktalktalking but the words don't mean as much because nothing could be any more real than the gentle rise and fall of his chest. And she (slowly) realizes that she is, possibly for the first time in her life, content.
He's iceiceice but she's not freezing because her f i r e warms them both quite nicely, thank you very much.
A/N: Trying out a new style, how do you like it? I'm quite fond of it, actually. It's like freeverse, but, not. Please review!