he hides ivy-vined ankles beneath black skinny jeans and one bleeding heart, his hair veiling his face behind gel-slick strands of crimson. his eyes--frozen-lake blue lined with exasperation and the look of a soul that's seen far too much--sink into pallid skin. the bags under his bottom lashes--heavy, filled with lead and fake bruises--give the impression that he hasn't slept in a year. but he has, don't you see? he's just filling a role the world scripted for him years ago. at night, he always dreams pretty...and never wonders what he's missing out on.
she layers a rainbow of confidence and poise across two aching lungs and a painted-on smile, a feather-soft wisp of blonde hair curled against the faded pink of her cheek. her mascara-charged lashes and glittering lids accent the depth of her eyes--emerald green--but never portray all of her pain. the contours of her face--a valley of cheerleader beauty and know-it-all-without-telling grace--whisper secrets of a past etched with gold. but it isn't, can't you tell? she's haunted by demons and one-too-many sleepless, terror-clogged moons. at night, she cowers behind her well-sculpted mask and wishes to just go unnoticed for once.
and maybe, someday, he'll look up from his comics and see welts on the wrist of the girl who tutors on the weekends. and maybe a story will develop from there, of a boy cheating god of one fallen, bruised angel. of a boy who helps her to live, and to love. or maybe it never will. but for now, the story ends here. no introductions, no names. just two unknown characters penned to a page, left in limbo to fate.