#goodglrlwrath

the  two  teens  sat  across  from  each  other  on  emma’s  bad,     almost  as  if  NOTHING  had  ever  pulled  them  apart.     the  moment  felt  so  strange,    so  nostalgic   ----    &   yet,    it  felt  so  NORMAL.     it  had  been  far  too  long  since  audrey   &   emma   actually  got  along.     strangely  enough,     it  took   one   exposing  video    &    a  death  to  bring  them  together    ----   the  circumstances  certainly  weren’t  what  she  had  chosen  ;    but  audrey  was  just  glad  they  were  at  least  talking  again.     &    she  wanted  to  do  whatever  she  needed  to  ensure  that  their  friendship  fell  back  into  place   ----   but  of   course,     few  questions  still  weighed  her  mind.       why  did  emma  kiss  her ?      why  did  emma  stop  being  her  friend  ?       why  hadn’t  they  TALKED  about  it  ?     audrey  was  desperate  for  answers,     but  she  couldn’t  just  come  out  with  them.      she  had  to  be  CAREFUL   ;    she  didn’t  want  to  lose  the  friendship  they  had  just  rekindled,    all   because  her  selfish  mind  couldn’t  stop   thinking  about  the  only  kiss  that  had  ever  truly  meant  something  to  her    ------   even  if  it  was  so  long  ago. 

—— soft, honeyed sunlight filters through cheap curtains && early morning haze. one sliver, brighter than his brothers, bypasses the curtains through a split in the fabric && falls across her eyes. nose crinkling; she stirs && rubs at eyelids   caked   with last night’s blurred eyeliner && quickly fleeting sleep. a faint whine can heard amongst the rustling of thin sheets, as she sits up in bed && surveys the room before her. a quaint, but open little apartment in the city. nothing to write home about, but its her’s && she loves it. old polaroids line the unfinished brick wall to her left — most featuring a girl with champagne curls && smile that could warm the winter. the same girl still curled up in bed beside her. audrey stretches && looks down at her still sleeping sweetheart 

SHE   WAS   LEVEL-HEADED,   mostly,   at   least   she   usually   liked   to   think   of   herself   that   way,   but   it's   hard   when   there’s   still   a   strange,   quiet   intimacy   between   them    ---    it’s   new   and   fresh   and   they   didn't   necessarily   talk   much   about   it   but   it's   still   there,   living   and   breathing    ---    and   it’s   already   hard   enough   to   foucs   when   she   still   has   the   taste   of   kissed-bruised   lips   on   her   own.   and   then   emma’s   standing   up   in   front   of   her   mirror   changing   into   a   pajama   shirt.   it’s   nothing   new,   she’s   probably   seen   emma   half-clothed   at   least   a   dozen   times   before   (   sleepovers   were   once   common   ),   but   there’s   something   new   in   it   now,   in   the   way   her   eyes   follow   fragile   hands   as   they   work   button   by   button   and   it’s   all   she   can   do   to   try   and   half-listen   to   what's   being   said. 

why can't you write kieran instead of mtv