The word didn’t have much meaning to him ; even if movies and books described the very scenario he had forced himself in ‘ ideal ’. It was a matter of perspective, one’s resolve might as well become their death, wherein lies their true happiness. Their dreams coming true, the essence of joy, but after that ? Perhaps a lot of questions for a morning as early as this, but it was no surprise for Valentine to trouble himself with these concepts. He wanted to believe in what he had been told ( ‘ to love another person is to see the face of god ’ ), yet such words resonated no response in his heart. A groan escaped him, the immense dislike to early mornings one he could not yet rid himself off. He was too young, too foolish. Rest was needed, but he knew that in the future to come, the truth might become the opposite.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to be alone with this annoyance. The form of another individual had shifted from room to room, he knew ; he might not be too talkative when barely awake, but he observed --- he noticed. He knew.
❝ good morning, diego. ❞ Tone was gentle, delicate, as if he were to speak to a child. He didn’t know how to be truly kind, only soften the volume of his voice, all pretense even too strict to be assumed ‘ friendly ’. Then again, this was pretense, was it not ( image above emotions ; pictures more important than desire ) ? Feet settled upon the floor next to the bed, hands throwing long, blond curls over shoulders. Lids opened only half, hues shifted from the room to Diego, steps taken towards the other individual. Was he expected to embrace him ? Was he comfortable with that ? Did he care ?
romaincrisis
2087
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
origamiaround
