‘ i don't know what to DO. ’ 

         it's a bit overdramatized, legs dangling over the edge of scott's bed. fingers come to rub circles          behind her glasses before taking them off all together,               flinging them onto soft blankets. 

       she's so screwed. felicity's mom has been worried about her–––––––love life. recently. so this guy,        this ONE SAVING GRACE,        was supposed to be her ticket to getting her mom off of her back.

                     not to mention how…how nice it was, thinking someone wanted to be with you.

                                                                 and then, you know. he dumped her.

                                                                                                                               TYPICAL. 

         felicity memorizes the swirls of paint, of plaster,   on his ceiling. not that she doesn't know them          already. there is NO PLACE she likes more than his, after all. crashes here more often than not.

                                      she's at the foot of the bed, turns her head to find scott with                                       his laptop, listening.      as always. EVEN when she rambled. 

                 he was her  b e s t  f r i e n d . she'd do the same for him, but it was–––he was special. 

                                                           ＷＨＥＮ ＳＨＥ ＨＡＤ ＮＯ ＯＮＥ， ＳＨＥ ＨＡＤ ＳＣＯＴＴ．

                              twists further, lies on her side. pokes a finger at the hole in his sock.

perfect | marianas trench

                 laughter passes her lips in peals,   arms twining around his shoulders, his neck.                  felicity's got her legs wrapped securely around his torso, chin resting,    almost,                  in the crook of his shoulder.  she didn't NEED a piggy back ride, technically–––                  her ankle was only a little bit sore. they would've made it back to her apartment                  easily,                                                                    but––––––––––––––––––––––––

                                      she laughs again. he's fast. 

                                                                                                ‘ slow down, now, ’ 

              pauses between words to catch her breath between the laughter, between their grins.               she holds on tighter,       feels the slide of hands over the backs of her thighs ;; gentle,               but secure.                                                                                  feels kind of safe, here. 

                    there's a knock to her door, a quiet rap of knuckles that almost                     sounds HESITANT.      it's pretty early on in the semester, and                      felicity's got nothing  else  to do since the first influx of papers                      isn't until friday.            and even though she's just killing time,                      browsing ( stalking ) facebook       ( people she knows already                      have kids, what the hell ),             the distraction is welcomed.                                                         ‘ come in? ’