Inspired: Sam Tsui and Kurt Schneider's cover of Taylor Swift's Safe and Sound. Re-uploaded since: Oct 12th 2013, 10:27 PM.
But till the morning sun you're mine all mine
It's a crazy world, she would always say. That's why I'm crazy.
He loves her voice. He could listen to it over and over again and never get tired of it. Her voice would be high-pitched when she screams, and light as air when she whispers. The way her breath tickles his cheek before she leans in further to whispers her words. She's so complex sometimes, but as he holds her fingers in his large palms, he could feel how thin and fragile they are. How fragile she is. He loves her laugh, sometimes it's so quiet, he needs to close his eyes and focus on it solely- sometimes it's way too loud, it'll make him laugh alongside with her too.
Sometimes, he would only hold her close to him, when he feels like he couldn't say anything. He loves hearing her talk, her voice. He loves the way she trails her cold fingers on his skin, haunting it ever so slightly. He loves her eyes, the way it lightens up and darkens down.
She caresses his cheek, her eyes are as if memorizing his face, every details of it. She leans down and kisses him tenderly with her soft lips to his jaw. He gasps, taking in sharp breaths. He holds her tighter on her hips and closes his eyes. She leans closer, brushing her lips to his cheek, until she reaches his ears. "Andrew," her voice would begin. He continues to hold her, not wanting to let go of her just yet.
"You're crying," she graces her thumb against his cheek, wiping his single tear away.
He breaks down and bites his lips. Dad, dad, dad.
She holds him with both her hands, clasping his jaw. With a small smile and softer eyes, she tells him, "Shh. I'm here, right? I'll never let you go."
He loves her hair, messy or not.
It's dark brown and short. It's simple. When she's leaning against him, her back on his chest, he would always bury his nose in her hair, kissing it afterward. His fingers would find hers, intertwines it together. It didn't take long for him to slap himself and realize he needs Allison in his life. The week after the fateful Saturday, it was hard. He had come to school, with the intention on trying to avoid Saturday-issue at all cost, but how can he even do that when she didn't come for the next few days? Along those days of her absence, he had went insane. He'd punch scumbag Rodriguez right at his nose for making some stupid useless jokes, he went all-maniac over a pizza order and he had a make-out session with Lyra Greene only to break it apart because it felt so damn wrong.
On a gloomy Thursday, after everything seemed like a faint memory and he felt so lifeless, he saw her standing among the crowds, just staring at him. She's in her dark clothing, her hair was cleaner and her face was as pale as usual, and his heart never felt so calmed before. She was what he was waiting for. He had ran to her and took her to the janitor's closet, kissing her endlessly for the next 10 minutes. Ending it with a, "Don't ever do that again," his voice was husky and rough, out of breath.
She, trying her best to hide her grin, looked up, "What?"
He ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feel of it. "I don't want to be alone. Not without you."
Don't ever leave me alone.
The never have an official date whatsoever. But she had once took him to a roof, to watch the sun rise.
She leaned her head against his broad shoulder, watching as the sun slowly makes its appearance. The birds flew in the air, singing and waking everyone up. The wind blew peacefully around them and he felt so peaceful. No coaches to yell at him, no teachers to threat him with his grades, no dad to order him to get your crap together or for fuck's sake, I will do something about it. Just him and her. And sun rise.
"Close your eyes, Andrew," she told him, with a voice she only uses with him.
He did, a smile playing on his lips. "Why?"
A kiss. "For luck."
He opened his eyes, smiling widely at her. She's wearing the same expression. "You know, today's game. I know you can do it."
"Oh yeah?" he chuckles, grabbing her closer and landed another kiss on her lips.
She let out a laugh and nodded her head, "Yeah. Make your coach proud, your teammates proud, your school proud, your dad proud...," he rolled his eyes at the mention of his father, but didn't look away from her. She's still smiling, and there is nothing more that is beautiful than her. "Me proud," she said slowly.
He laughed, before crashing their lips together again. "Always," he promised.
He loves her touches.
It's so gentle, it's like her whispers. He would barely notice it, yet it's ghosting him all over the place. Sometimes he'd have nightmares of her touches, lingering on his skin. Crap, he would tell himself at nights. No one's touches could ever come close to hers. Not Lyra Greene, or Amanda Cliff (ex-girlfriend) or even the hottest girl in his grade, Riley Anderson (he would know, she flirted with him once). She's much more different, much more sincere, much more carefree. She won't touch him because she wants him- she touches him because it feels right. Their skins melded together, dancing around each other. It sends some sort of electrifying feeling all over his body, it makes him shudder in silence.
She softly presses the damp, cold, towel against his bruised face. He winces. "So, your dad did this because you didn't get into the University he wanted you to go?"
"Yeah," he nods, biting his tongue not to curse aloud. He averts his eyes at her in a short moment, only watching as her eyes are focusing on the bruise. "But I got into the other one, though. It's not that good to compare with the first one, but it's still great..."
"I'm glad," her words aren't exciting, or even enthusiastic. It's just... sad.
He glances over to her, worried smearing his expression. "Hey, what's wrong?" His words are slow, his hands on her wrist that was treating his injured face. She's so skinny under under his palm- he wonders if she would break if he's too rough. But she seemed tough, all at the same so dangerous to be holding.
She stops what she's doing, meeting his gaze. "Y-you're going away, Andrew."
It breaks him inside to see her this way.
He cups her face with his hands and brings her closer to him. Slowly, he leans down to press their lips together. Something churns in his stomach, just like it would whenever it's AllisonAllisonAllison. She's so close to him, yet she feels so far away right on the moment. He misses her. He misses her eyes, her touches, her smiles, her laughter, her insanity, her voice, her hands, her fingers... "I love you, Allison."
She kisses him hard on his lips. "I love you too, Andrew."
Mark is his new college roommate, and he's a very lazy and sarcastic person but he knows when to interrupt and when to shut up if he needs to.
"Who's that?" he points out one day, his chin gesturing at the picture of a smiling woman with messy short dark-brown hair and a large smile on her lips, looking at the camera, with him kissing her on the cheek. He looks at it for a while, his mind traveling back to the memory. The moment when her body was just beyond his reach, where he could wrap his arms around with and pull her closer, smelling her in. She smelled like old cigars and grass, but that's okay. He probably smelled like dirty socks and sweats.
"S' my girlfriend," he mutters slowly, crunching the chip in his mouth. He slumps against the couch, changing the channel on the small television Mark had installed.
Mark raises an eyebrow. He ignores it. Surprisingly, Mark shrugs his shoulder and continues on with whatever he's doing, "Oh. She looks nice."
"She's better than nice," he argues, still crunching on more chips.
Suddenly, a pillow lands on the back of his head, making him turns his head in a matter of a second towards Mark, who merely rolls his eyes. He snorts under his breath, strumming his old guitar, "You're whipped, dude."
He doesn't say anything, mostly because Mark's probably right.
He didn't knew college life would be so busy.
He looked over to a calendar one day.
Five months. That's how long he hadn't called her. Somehow, the guilt stretched a little way over five months.
When he sees her, the only thing he could think of doing is be close to her.
He let his head drops on her shoulder and they just stay that way for a while. His hands are around her, keeping her from running away even though he knows Allison wouldn't do that, not when the both of them are in this way too deep. The regrets, the guilt, the silent pain and the invisible scars throbbing within him, but he couldn't let himself to say it. Sorry Allison, his lips are seal shut. Dammit, I'm sorry!
Slowly, her touches begin to ghost over his skins, and he has to strained himself from grabbing her closer. "When you're around, Andrew-" she slowly admits, her voice is low for him to hear. Only him. "-I feel safe and secure."
He couldn't take it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mutters into her shoulder.
She laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand. "It's okay," she whispers. "It happens."
How could she say that? Like it was nothing? She's a puzzle, a complicated one. But he's addicted on solving her. No, he loves her. "I'm so sorry, Allison."
"Andrew," her tongue presses on his name. He loves the way she calls his name. "You make me feel safe and secure."
In another word, I love you so much.
He looks up, daring himself to finally look at her. She's so innocent for someone who drank a tons of Vodka. He puts his arms around her now and she slowly rests her head on the crook of his neck, finding it fits perfectly. It always does. Her hair is messy, and he grins lazily because she just looks way beautiful. With a deep breath, he put his chin on top of her head, "And you make me feel safe and secure too."
In another word, I love you so much too.
"So, where's your girlfriend now?" Mark asks casually.
He flips on the next page of his book, "She, uh, got into Hughes."
Mark stops for a while, "Hey, isn't Hughes just a couple of hours from here?"
"Yeah," he answered shortly.
"You could easily meet her, then!" The lazy roommate exclaims, looking frantic although Andrew doesn't know why.
He chuckles and snorts, "Where do you think I go during the weekends?"