title: brite lites
summary: The perfect confessions of love are made in the freezing cold at near midnight when the stars aren't out.
notes: for the figment daily themes 02/19
He gazed up at the sky, but there were no stars. Or maybe it was that he just couldn't see them because of all the city lights. That's how it went, usually. Sometimes he hated living in the city. He wanted to see the stars. He wanted to get away.
He looked back at the girl in front of him, quiet and staring at him with her too large brown eyes and a frown on her face. She was getting impatient and he didn't blame her. For starters he'd called her out here in the middle of the night only to say nothing at all. It was thirty degrees out and they'd been standing in silence for almost ten minutes
He was just a little surprised that she hadn't called him stupid and left already like she normally would have. Maybe she was worried about him; he wasn't being his usual cheerful self, and the thought comforted him a little because for all her declarations of hate and you disgust me you idiot, she cared. She wouldn't be here if she didn't.
"Hey," he said and she raised her head up a little in acknowledgement. He grinned but it wasn't the one she was used to.
"I love you," he said and if she was shocked she didn't show it, "Will you run away with me?"