Sleeping With Sirens ll Daphne and Tate
Its times like these when Tate wished he was a mind reader, he always was intrigued with what the girl before him was thinking. Because unlike most of the school population, she only talked when necessary, it was a nice change from the constant ambling he heard day in and day out at every one of  his mediocre classes. Her words had a tone to them, he couldnât tell if it was jealously or just pure disinterest. He looked into her eyes âIts hard o explain but, yeah noâŚâ In reality he never wanted to be close to anyone ever, it scared him, because he was scared they would be ripped away from him without even a glance back at him. He would never admit this to anyone, but he had a certain bond to Oliver, and felt nothing but utter betrayal when he tried to conceal him, and it hurt him slightly when he was so ready to be rid of him.
Tate couldnât help but grin at her answer, he chuckled softly âNever have I had someone so just nonchalant about killing someone else.â He looked over the lake and smiled softly âIâm not really good with this whole friendship thingâŚ. so I hope Iâm not failing at ours.â He took a rock and tossed it towards the lake watching it skip, once, twice, then sink into the dismal darkness that was the black lake. He pressed his lips together and sighed âI wished I enjoyed the small thingsâŚ.. well really I wished I enjoyed something besides torture you know?âÂ
A small smirk tugged at her lips. It always made her feel better when she made someone think, to see the cogs turning in their mind. Looking back towards the lake, she could feel Tate's energy exuding towards her. She understood what he mean--being alone all the time, no real friends. Although she couldn't relate to the sex. She rarely even made physical contact with humans, besides the accidental shoulder bump in the hall way. Her eyes narrowed slightly as took a deep breath, calming her heart back down to its usual, slow, steady rate.
Daphne shrugged a bit. "They deserve it," she said simply. It wasn't hat murder and torture were on her top of her to-do list--they just were people who needed to be punished for who they were. If their society wasn't going to change the fact that muggle borns and muggle lovers existed then they needed to take action in their own hands. "I'm not either..." she admitted softly, almost ashamed. Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she pressed her lips together, tugging at her sleeves once more out of slight discomfort as she felt her heart pounding in her chest once more. "And you're not," she said, taking a quick glance at him once more. "I'm sure there is something other than belittling mudbloods," she said, looking out at the lake as she pushed herself off her hands to toy with a small rock between her long, slender fingers. "You just have to find it." Daphne looked at him, giving him another small smile.Â
















