pippa drags the air through her cigarette, leaning her back against the rough wood door frame of the deserted carousel-house-turned-club rave thing, except with good music. her copper eyes slide lazily over the boys and girls, some caught in embraces or locked in wordy battles or simply having fun. she knows she is catching boys, she always does. her raven hair like nets always brings them to her, but she’s looking for one boy in particular. the boy she will love and be with and adore for forever. her boy. only, she hasn’t caught him yet.

problem is, we all know.

she chews at her nails and rolls her eyes at her friend cap and her boy named dove who are in love and showing it. she looks up at the stars, hearing their laughter at the silly people living their silly lives. pippa is almost embarrassed at her yearning for real, serious, this-isn’t-a-bullshit-fling love, because the stars’ laughter is almost worse than being loveless. she glares and the blinking lights, not amused at all, and she takes another drag on her now definitely shorter ciggy.

pippa crushes her smoke under the heel of her vintage pumps, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and looking more closely at those around her. she feels the walls of the club like haunting old men with collapsed shoulders and gnarled hands and grotesque faces. she sees their twisted old mouths and crumbling, decaying skin as rough as brick- she mutters for them to fuck off and proceeds to wade into the human ocean, the pounding of the music worse than the pressure of under water. her cream cotton dress, like a doll’s, suddenly feels like nothing. she doesn’t think about it. she just dances with the mob and weaves through their knots like a ribbon.

the music changes, and dancing becomes moshing. pippa is small. she’s very small. right before she is swallowed by the raging bodies, a pair of arms come from behind her and hold her protectively around the waist. she leans thankfully into his chest (she knows he is safe), as he carefully extracts her from the roaring mass and sets her on her feet once they are clear of the crowd. he takes her hand, and pippa knows he is beautiful. his hands are smooth and dry, they lead her outside to the grass, where the stars have stopped laughing and it is quieter. she laughs and pulls his hand so he has to face her.

“you are beautiful,” she tells him. he has choppy dark hair, darker than her own- it is very black, so black it’s blue-black and incredibly straight. she wants his hair. his eyes are so black she can’t tell the difference between iris and pupil. he is tall, much taller than her (everyone is though), and he is thin but strong looking. it would take the moon to break him.

“little moon,” he says, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

they curl up on the ground. pippa tucks herself right up against him and he puts his arms around her shoulder and twists her hair around the fingers of his other hand. she hears his heartbeat, but it’s a good heartbeat, it’s content. she decides to speak.

“i’m pippa.”

“i’m seb.”

and pippa and seb met each other and all that was left was their love to grow until it couldn’t anymore. they still love each other.

-

dear leaf is temporarily on hold because i don’t know what i’m doing with it. i WILL pick it up again, but here is the beginning of Aphrodite Falling.

some of you know i’m a really inconsistent updater, but i’ll try, i swear. i’ve already got some chapters written, this one so far is the longest (i love chapterlettes). right, well, enjoy (review), love to you all (review!!!).