Categories > Original > Romance > Awry
He seemed far to still. Could I just be paranoid? Perhaps. But, this boy, my brother, he's just staring at me. It felt like holes were burned on me. I sighed shakily. I chuckled darkly, as a way to remove my nervousness.
"Do you need something?" I asked. He shrugged and turned. I sighed deeply.
My brother, Aiden, never really took a strong liking to me. I do have a theory about that. I think it's because I look like our departed mother. Blond hair, green eyes. She really meant a lot to him, or at least, people tell me so. I've given up on Aiden's and my relationship. Clearly, he isn't willing to give a flying fuck about me no matter what I do. And I suppose that's fine because I'm not very fond of him either.
At least, that is the lie I convinced myself of. Lately, I've been watching the way his hips sway, the way he speaks, hell, I've even enjoyed hearing him laugh. Maybe it's because I've finally gone mad. But, still, the feeling seems to have this strange lingering. Like even after he's left the room I think of him.
I got up and resided to my bed room. I got out my bong, why not smoke? And besides, liquor is worse than weed. Soon I began to feel the numbness. I've had weed so many times, it's started to become numb. Heh, even the high seems boring now.
I waited it out, still thinking about Aiden. I gasped when I realized my pants were becoming tighter. It must have been the weed, yes, it has to be that. I felt my face flush as someone knocked on my door.
"G-go away!" I shouted. I hid my bong easily, but I was more concerned with the problem in my pants.
"River, just let me in. It's Aiden." He said in a monotone voice.
My face flushed an even deeper red. I hurried onto my bed and put a blanket over me.
"W-what do you want, Aiden!" I shouted. Oh good god I don't know how this could get worse.
"I just wanted to know if you want dinn-" He started.
"No! No..I...I'm fine!" I said. In this state I could not possibly sit next to that boy with his dark eyes...and his brown hair...my pants became tighter. Dammit!
"Okay fine! Stop being a little bitch River." He shouted. He walked away from my door.
Thank god.
"Do you need something?" I asked. He shrugged and turned. I sighed deeply.
My brother, Aiden, never really took a strong liking to me. I do have a theory about that. I think it's because I look like our departed mother. Blond hair, green eyes. She really meant a lot to him, or at least, people tell me so. I've given up on Aiden's and my relationship. Clearly, he isn't willing to give a flying fuck about me no matter what I do. And I suppose that's fine because I'm not very fond of him either.
At least, that is the lie I convinced myself of. Lately, I've been watching the way his hips sway, the way he speaks, hell, I've even enjoyed hearing him laugh. Maybe it's because I've finally gone mad. But, still, the feeling seems to have this strange lingering. Like even after he's left the room I think of him.
I got up and resided to my bed room. I got out my bong, why not smoke? And besides, liquor is worse than weed. Soon I began to feel the numbness. I've had weed so many times, it's started to become numb. Heh, even the high seems boring now.
I waited it out, still thinking about Aiden. I gasped when I realized my pants were becoming tighter. It must have been the weed, yes, it has to be that. I felt my face flush as someone knocked on my door.
"G-go away!" I shouted. I hid my bong easily, but I was more concerned with the problem in my pants.
"River, just let me in. It's Aiden." He said in a monotone voice.
My face flushed an even deeper red. I hurried onto my bed and put a blanket over me.
"W-what do you want, Aiden!" I shouted. Oh good god I don't know how this could get worse.
"I just wanted to know if you want dinn-" He started.
"No! No..I...I'm fine!" I said. In this state I could not possibly sit next to that boy with his dark eyes...and his brown hair...my pants became tighter. Dammit!
"Okay fine! Stop being a little bitch River." He shouted. He walked away from my door.
Thank god.
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