#rosedivined

[jcneporter-blog]

[drunk text] FUCK YOU YOU’RE GORGEOUS

[TXT → aDAMN ]: i always preferred drunk you.  

[belledesrosiers-blog]

🍹 :)))

Drabble: The first time Belle goes in the West Wing.

She's always been curious about the west wing; He never lets her anywhere near it but her heart and her mind always ponder what could be behind the heavy embroided doors (perhaps because his face hardens and his eyes darken whenever she mentions it, whenever she walks too closely or dares simply touch the wood;                              her curiosity is a dark thing, with its own beating heart and an insatiable                                  and constant thirst. It always wants more, more, more, especially when it                                  can't have it).

She doesn't know what to expect, as she never does when it comes to Adam. He is as much a mystery to her as he is to the entirety of Hermosa, even if she spends most of her free afternoons in his castle. Some would argue she's a prisoner and although his desire is to keep her locked in his tower, you can never truly tame a wild thing. But oh, it's close - very close. Belle is set free but, like a bird born in a golden cage, she always runs back to it, to him -- even if her judgement pleads some shred of rationality, she loses it all when it comes to him. What a beastly creature he is yet he offers her a pomegranate and she eats it whole, willingly, every time the gates open.

She dares ask one more, her bare feet walking closer to the door, her hand reaching for the handle, ready to finally open them. “What’s inside?” This time he doesn’t answer; she keeps her eyes on the door, her skin gently against the metal cold; she’s expecting another dry answer, an angry one, even, but instead he is by her side, brushing fingers against one another, he pushes the door and it opens, more effortlessly than Belle would expect (it doesn’t creak or scrape against the floor, this door is opened in the dark, when she is not around).

The room looks much like the rest of the house: abandoned, discarded, unloved. There are torn paintings and white sheets all over the furniture, only at the centre sits a piano. It’s the most beautiful piece Belle has ever seen; it fills the room, golden and heavy. Adam walks towards it and sits in front of the open, marble keys. Belle stands, unable to move, thinking she was a fool to ever disturb such holy place. She knows it’s holy, to him, his sanctuary. Like this, he looks like a God ready to be worshiped, the same intensity and tragedy one expects from Them. She could fall to her knees and pray. Instead, his eyes on her make her take a step forward. “Do you play?”

He nods, his fingers hovering the keys.

“Play to me.”

Belle’s statement sends shivers down his spine, something electric he can’t control and his hands tremble, still unable to touch the keys, as if they were on fire and he was afraid to get burnt. Maybe it’s that exact realisation that makes him dig deep into them, so abruptly, the dim notes make the entire room vibrate.

His fingers dance beautifully throughout the keys, stringing together a melody so familiar to Belle, yet one she can’t quite place. She moves closer, steps into the light, the music surrounding them in a dimension of their own. There’s just the two of them, suspended in the air, music sustaining them there. It’s the most beautiful thing she has ever heard and seen, his soul coming out of his body, messy hair hiding his eyes.

When the last note hits, it echoes and silence swallows the house whole again. There’s only the sound of his heavy breathing, eyes still facing the floor, never once searching for hers. She wants to look him in the eye and speak without words. They aren’t enough, wouldn’t be enough. Instead, he stands up from the piano and walks towards the door, not a single word until he stops, hand already holding the doorknob.

“Don’t ask me about this again.”

He leaves her behind. Recognition hits. That was the melody of her dreams.

[paintpetal]

[text] Be careful. // [text] I just want you to be happy. And you’ll be happier without me. // [drunk text] I’m eating macaroni and cheese on a slice of pizza and autocorrect just wrote that text for me pretty much, what’s your night like

[ sms ; 6:43 am ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

Says you! That’s rich.

[ sms ; 6:44 am ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

Okay alright. I’ll call you when it’s over.

[ sms ; 11:13 pm ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

You know that’s not at all true. You keep pushing me away and I’m sick of it, Adam. You’re supposed to be one of my best friends, act like it!

[ sms ; 12:51 am ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

Drinking chocolate milk from the carton and wishing I had pizza, what the heck where was my invite?

[aladdinelkadi-blog]

[text] It’ll be like The Notebook, except with way more of my penis.

[text] i think u sent this to the wrong person bruh

[paintpetal]

[text] When I think things are about to change … I’m always proven wrong.

[ sms ; 8:37 pm ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

Not with that attitude, Adam. 

[ sms ; 8:38 pm ] : ADAM BAUDIER:

Stop by the shop, you can walk me home and we can talk.

[belledesrosiers-blog]

[text] You want nothing to do with me, I get it. // [text] Let me help, please? // [drunk text] You are the most beautiful girl I have ever known

[text → adam] No, I don’t.[text → adam] [unsent] You’re right, I should want nothing to do with you.[text → adam] [unsent] But I must be really stupid because that’s not true.

//

[text →  adam] Do you really want to?[text → adam] You didn’t seem very helpful when my father asked you for help.//

[text → adam] [typing…][text→ adam] [typing…][text→ adam] Thank you…[text→ adam] Have you been drinking?