Scorpius and Lily Luna. A pairing I kind of despise because Scor can ONLY be with Rose, dammit! Anywho, this is a little (lot) more abstract. It's based off of this wonderful absurdist play that I saw. So yeah, it'd never really happen, but that's kind of the point.

all those pretty things she does

He never really does fall in love with her. Sure, he sees her and a smile lights up his face, and yes, most of his thoughts revolve around her; but, he never does fall in love with Lily Luna. He, instead, falls for the pretty things she does, like wearing swishy dresses that hit her knee and spin out when she twirls, or the way she says his name.

Buts she's not the pretty things, she's not, she's not! And she tries to tell him this but he doesn't listen because he can't listen, her chin is tilted in that way that leaves him breathless.

"I love you," he tells her. He's not lying, he really thinks he does.

"No you don't," she counters, the words soft and smooth, like silk.

"You're beautiful," he tells her later.

"No I'm not," she says.

"I love you," he says again, and the words are familiar because he's uttered them so many times.

"No you don't," she reminds him, but he doesn't understand.

She thinks he may be stupid, or insane, (or maybe really in love) for not listening to her denials. She doesn't know which trait of the three, if any, are actually the cause of his continuous moronic, love-struck behavior, but she wishes she could just figure out how to best get through to him.

"You're beautiful," he offers the next morning. She, for a turn, stays silent.

"I love you," he tries. She doesn't respond.

"Hello?" he mumbles, "can you hear me?" and it's funny that he's asking this, but he's not even sure if he's talking because she's not responding with their well-rehearsed, almost scripted lines. "Hello?"

And her lips are cherry red, and they look lovely; and her eyes are green like grass, and he could stare at them forever; and her hair is like fire, and he just wants to touch it. And she looks so pretty, especially when she smiles.

"You're beautiful," he says, seriously.

"You don't mean that," she tells him.

"Yes you are," he counters.

"No I'm not," she refutes.

"I love you," he remarks, the words well-worn and often uttered.

"No you don't," she gives him the standard reply.

"Yes I do" he argues.

"How can you?" her voice is broken.

And he has no answer.