Dear Person Reading This:
Do you know why it is we never speak to Ren when she’s just back from rehearsal?
Because then she has batshit ideas like this one.
Haley threw herself down on the couch, eyes puffy and red from crying. The day had not been kind to her, and she was in no mood to tolerate her moody room mates. She needed to be alone; she needed time to accept what was going on and move on, and she needed space. The bedroom felt cramped; the lighting and the thinking were better in the more open, spacious-feeling floor plan of the apartment’s shared living space. Ren was MIA, or no doubt many feels would have been vented over Skype; she wasn’t even answering her text messages—not an unusual event coming from Ren, who’s attention was stolen away more easily than that of a kitten suffering from ADHD. It was a hard, harsh, horribly day, once which could only get worse, she feared.
Just as she was curling up in a ball, someone knocked on the door.
“No,” she groaned quietly to herself before loudly adding, “Go away, I’m not in the mood.” No new knock sounded, but she could hear the rather distinct scrape of a key enetering the lock, turning slowly, the door opening in on the apartment and shutting again, quietly.
“I’m not in the mood,” she repeated.
“Too bad,” replied the newcomer simply, swatting half-heartedly at her legs in an attempt to make more room on the couch for herself. Haley jolted upright at the sound of that voice and, mindless of the repercussions, threw her arms heedlessly around her companion’s neck, holding her close, hugging her tight.
“I missed you,” she whispered, new tears falling like hot rain, rolling down her cheeks and onto the floor below.
“I missed you too,” Oly smiled, holding her close.
Damn, it felt good to be in love.
I SWEAR I’M NOT BEING CREEPY.
I just enjoy the ability to creeper Haley from time to time. <3
Now, what was that about OTP creepiness you said earlier?
Spock by Amanda Tolleson
Freehand digital painting on corel with oil paint brushes