𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 @nikovinter
she’s an old lady now - an old lady with her old ladyish routine. waking up at eight am, kicking the sheets, getting herself an iced-americano instead of breakfast ( because that’s how her generation feeds themselves, right? ) and on her way to university. it’s too much too sudden; the feeling of getting used to somewhere, having a place to call home, friends to lean on.. and truth to be told, it frightens the shit out of her. its a constant, unspoken trail of thought - she’s always wishing for more excitement, knowing damn well, it’s her self-sabotaging side doing the speaking. “well fuck you too,” she yells to the phone, god, she wishes she had those old lady phones so she could loudly flip it exaggeratingly. that’s when she spots him, by the corner of the apartment complex, standing alone under the dim lights. is it possible? love stops on her tracks, barely breathing, unable to hear anything but the loud thumping sound coming from her chest. she’s shaking, why is she shaking? that’s not him .. right? it’s crazy how much he reminds her of her own personal ghost - the friend she still remembers fondly, her first true heart-break. “niko?” a whisper is all she can muster under the circumstance & she can’t be sure if he can hear her, or not. how long has it been? eight, nine years? funny how he remained the same but changed a lot, still has the smile of the boy, who would push her on the swings. i have to know, she thinks, it’s been ages since she hasn’t been haunted by his ghost. it cannot be him. here she goes again - he’s the sun, she’s the poor icarus, flying to close, onto his death. “niko?”