Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā fitzpatrick - abernathy,Ā Ā bĀ Ā Ā Ā ( Ā abernathytm Ā ) .
Ā Ā Ā the smiths the queen is dead plays in bowieās earphones and maybe itās a little CLICHE that sheās got a walkman, but sheās got a fucking walkman and if you have a problem with her cds, take it up with her vinyl collection, which sheād much prefer to be listening to, but this is about the closest sheāll get. she finds that there is a certain CHARM about committing to an artist, an album, having it spin round and round like a merry go round or thoughts in her head after a few drinks, having to eject the disk and put in another should a change be desired.
Ā Ā Ā chipped black nails drum the beat beside her leg as she lays out in the grass on a clouded day. it seems counter productive, but the girlās pale skin prefers clouds to sun and her introverted demeanor prefers empty grass to the hoards of gallagher students on a hot day. a breeze stops her drumming and she pulls her long sleeves over her hands to keep warm, but holds her ground, defiant even toward mother earth herself.Ā
Ā Ā Ā blue eyes are illuminated even brighter by the gray-blue skies and the black liner surrounding their hue. she feels her skin burn, but doesnāt know what direction the strangerās stare is coming from until sheās looking directly at them. she holds her gaze, a questionable decision considering a killer has access to gallagherās campus, but the reminder of such danger only makes bowie pull down her sunnies to get a better look.Ā
Ā Ā Ā she takes off her headphones and it is a sign of invitation where she will not be one to wave someone over. sheās always hated that gesture. WAVING.Ā walkman and headphones rest in the grass, her body outstretches once more, and now sheās doodling a sun on the top of her hand, ink smudging in certain places, as she awaits her not-so-secret admirer. upon their arrival, bowie looks up from her hand and states her observation aloud,Ā āyouāre watching me.ā // @chanroyerā
theĀ grayĀ skiesĀ remindĀ chanĀ ofĀ fallsĀ inĀ france .Ā Ā Ā ofĀ theĀ singularĀ winterĀ sheĀ hadĀ inĀ newĀ yorkĀ city .Ā Ā Ā thatĀ winterĀ hadĀ beenĀ aĀ brutallyĀ coldĀ thingĀ thatĀ chasedĀ peopleĀ indoorsĀ toĀ avoidĀ theĀ weatherĀ Ā ---Ā Ā theĀ windĀ hadĀ feltĀ likeĀ aĀ monsterĀ inĀ itsĀ ownĀ right,Ā Ā likeĀ somethingĀ withĀ sharpĀ teeth .Ā Ā Ā sheĀ hadĀ spentĀ thoseĀ monthsĀ inĀ theĀ underbellyĀ ofĀ nyu,Ā Ā tuckedĀ awayĀ compilingĀ researchĀ untilĀ theĀ seasonĀ thawed .Ā Ā Ā butĀ forĀ aĀ girlĀ whoseĀ talentsĀ requireĀ herĀ toĀ beĀ inside,Ā Ā surroundedĀ byĀ blue - litĀ monitorsĀ andĀ theĀ resonantĀ clickĀ ofĀ keyboards,Ā Ā sheĀ sureĀ chasesĀ theĀ sun .Ā Ā Ā chanĀ remembersĀ plantingĀ aĀ flowerĀ thatĀ yearĀ thatĀ satĀ inĀ theĀ windowsillĀ ofĀ herĀ dorm,Ā Ā whereĀ itĀ wouldĀ leanĀ desperatelyĀ towardĀ whateverĀ spareĀ sunlightĀ itĀ couldĀ find .Ā Ā Ā likeĀ itĀ wouldĀ growĀ withĀ theirĀ combinedĀ determinationĀ alone .Ā Ā Ā sheĀ couldĀ relate .
theĀ plantĀ didnātĀ makeĀ itĀ toĀ march .Ā Ā Ā supposeĀ thereāsĀ aĀ metaphorĀ inĀ thereĀ somewhere .
atĀ gallagher,Ā Ā though,Ā Ā theĀ grayĀ skiesĀ bringĀ aĀ hushĀ acrossĀ theĀ campus,Ā Ā aĀ certainĀ calm,Ā Ā thatĀ sheĀ hadĀ grownĀ toĀ appreciate .Ā Ā Ā theĀ brunetteĀ isĀ cuttingĀ betweenĀ theĀ greenhouseĀ andĀ theĀ mainĀ buildingĀ whenĀ aĀ blondeĀ catchesĀ herĀ eye,Ā Ā andĀ sheĀ pauses,Ā Ā waitingĀ expectantlyĀ untilĀ bowieĀ looksĀ over .Ā Ā Ā thatāsĀ invitationĀ enough,Ā Ā evenĀ beforeĀ theĀ otherĀ girlĀ pullsĀ herĀ headphonesĀ away .Ā Ā Ā whenĀ chanĀ reachesĀ herĀ sideĀ andĀ bowieĀ speaks,Ā Ā aĀ browĀ upticksĀ andĀ sheĀ laughsĀ shortly .Ā Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā donātĀ soundĀ soĀ fullĀ ofĀ yourself .Ā Ā āĀ Ā Ā Ā itāsĀ borderlineĀ coldĀ inĀ theĀ gallagherĀ skirt,Ā Ā butĀ sheĀ dropsĀ toĀ stretchĀ outĀ againstĀ theĀ grassĀ regardless .Ā Ā Ā aĀ grinĀ twitchesĀ atĀ theĀ cornerĀ ofĀ herĀ lips .Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā iĀ wasĀ tryingĀ toĀ figureĀ outĀ whoĀ wasĀ madĀ enoughĀ toĀ beĀ layingĀ outĀ hereĀ inĀ thisĀ uniformĀ .Ā Ā ā


















