here comes trouble.

five times kissed & our verse nijihimu :'))

“Are you there?” she whispered quietly into the phone. Pause. “Yeah.” “Say something, please.” “Say what?” he replied. “Anything. That you miss me. That you miss me like I miss you.” He inhaled quietly, “Of course. Of course I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts me every day.”

“I hope they ask about me & I hope you tell them you fucked up.”

“he is sitting on your front step and lighting a cigarette even though he would never let you touch one because “they’ll kill you,” he said, he is leaning back on his elbows and giving you that crooked smile that reminds you of an empty blue sky and you want to ask him if he’s ever really going to be happy or you’re supposed to pretend you don’t know that he’s going dark again you want to ask if maybe the problem is really that he doesn’t feel anything much less love or it’s actually just that you’re not good enough but god, this boy is a spinning top and a bad choice wrapped up in one, a sense of disaster in the trail behind him, he makes you feel exactly the same way as when you were seven and at the top of a hill on your brother’s bike and halfway down the brakes stopped working but you sit there and your tongue is tied and he’s so incredibly unsolvably sad inside and it’s something so even though you want to speak you say nothing.”