“What’re you reading?” She stands in the doorway, picking at the chipped paint, missing the closeness of him from 5 feet away. 

He folds the corner of a page and closes the book, resting it on his chest as he looks up at her from her spare bed. “I found it on your shelf, actually, something about zombies and the apocalypse, riveting stuff.” He shoots her a grin.

She notices he’s unpacked his things; his shoes are lying neatly by the door and it makes her heart tighten. He follows her gaze and sits up straight, “I’m keeping my room clean, I promise.”

Her breath catches on ‘my room’ and she lets a small hopeless smile spread across her lips, any other day she would have jokingly pretended to take note of all the messes he’s made and advised him he’s lost his bond, but today she can only look longingly at those damn shoes, all lined up in a row, toes to the skirting board.

“You ok?” She shakes herself out of it and looks to him. He smiles, that big dorky grin, and it is as warm as sunshine. 

“Yeah,” She clears her throat, “Just bored.”

Just wondering when you’ll be leaving again.

“Oh. Well that’s an easy fix. Come sit by me, quick,” He pats the mattress next to him, “I have a story to tell you.”

“A story?” She takes a seat and looks at him from the corner of her eye, a little confused.

“Yeah, it’s about zombies and some sort of apocalypse.”

She laughs out loud, music to his ears, and nudges his shoulder with hers, “Shut up.”

She lays back on the bed, “Tell me a different story, one with a happy ever after.”

“Aren’t you tired of those?” He turns around on the bed to face her, looking down at her hair sprawled out behind her head like Medusa.

She shakes her head, her bottom lip pulling up in the middle. 

She lets a deep breath out and closes her eyes, “Tell me about a boy that falls in love with me.”

He lays back long ways on the bed, head against his pillow, and pulls her legs up and over his. “Well, he’s handsome for a start,” He is grinning again, thinking of himself. 

“Mmm, I like handsome. Rugged, even.” He steals a glance at her, wondering if she’s serious. 

“He’s strong, and courageous, and a gentleman.” He watches her chest rise and fall, her eyelids flutter just a little. 

“He likes the way your hair smells, which, you know, if you ask me, is worth a lot of brownie points.” She shakes her head and gives a small annoyed sigh.

“He cooks you breakfast, and the eggs are always perfectly poached,” He closes his own eyes, “You go for walks together, and you don’t always have to hold each other’s hand, but he presses his palm to your hip sometimes just to let you know he’s there.” 

“He-” 

“Sam.” Her head is turned to the side, sea-washed eyes looking at him, filled to the brim with helplessness. 

“Yeah?” He can feel his blood start to pump faster, the heat rising to his cheeks.

She slides on to her side to curl up a little closer to him so their shoulders are touching, her legs still draped across his knees. 

“Nothing.” It is barely audible, yet packs enough punch to deflate his swollen heart. 

He moves over and touches his chin to her temple, letting all the longing escape through his eyes as they stare up at the ceiling.

She threads her fingers through his and his eyes close again, tight this time, willing her to see him when she imagines her Prince Charming.

But he can feel it in the pulse echoing underneath her skin – it will always be the other boy; who, despite what she thinks, can always stay – but chooses not to. 

from Tumblr
via IFTTT