She was beautiful. Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with hope and joy. Her soft, delicate hands crafted wonderous worlds. Her pink lips curled as they formed each melodious note she sang. Sne would dance. Soft, slow and graceful moves, on sweet rythms. Her hands shifted gracefully, as her delicate feet slid across the marble floor. Her hair flew as a bird who broke free.
Her eyes glinted with happiness when she danced. She drew. Her hands crafted wonders. Her brows scrunched together between frustration and confusion on where to place the next stroke. She believed each stroke of its importance. Like each piece in a puzzle.She would spend weeks, and weeks on the eyes. She believed them to be the most important. "It is not how the world is, it is how we see it." She would say.
He was striking. His hazel eyes crowded with questions and intelligence. His hands wove. Wove melodies one could listen on and on. Maybe it was how he would start nervous, and then end up proud, or was it how he delicately plucked the guitar strings as the sound echoed off the Maple wood and found a path to her ears. She would laugh, a sweet, fun, sound. She made the lyrics, as he wove the melodies.
He sketched. Birds, Tigers, and dragons. He would take a satisfied breath after each sketch, gleaming at his hands wonders. He cooked, anything and everything. He believed each spice was of importance. A dish missing something, anything, was incomplete. "You need all of them to understand, compromise, and sacrifice, to get the right flavour." He would say.
He loved to make her laugh. She loved to see his grin. She loved daisies. He loved sunflowers. She liked how with bland, and boring white all around them, they generated optimism and made their hearts yellow and cheerful. He liked how when rain came the sunflowers would protect their seeds, but still look at the place the last saw the sun, and how they knew the sun would be there fighting its way through the dark, stormy, clouds.
They loved each other. They still do. Their life was a beautiful one. One filled with stolen kisses from each other, pretty lied from the headmaster, sweet surprises for each other, old hoodies that smelled like him no matter how much she washed it.
Their favourite thing was moonlight walks. Twining there fingers with each others, and walking into the moonlit park. It wasn't allowed, of course. But they snuck in. They would sit on park benches and read in the moon's light. She would read Harry Potter, as he wanted her to, which would take ages. As he read Keeper Of The Lost Cities, as she wanted him to, which would take ages. On every bench in Marwood Park, you could see their initials scribbled under the benches, making marks that would last forever.
She still couldn't sleep without hearing her mother's recording. The lullahubye, the one about the seasons. It used to be sweet, hearing her voice, but now she could hear it in old memories. She remembered bits and pieces of it.
He still couldn't sleep without his stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun. The tattered blue bunny, he, him and her, had seen and survived many things. Evil foster teachers, and battles with the Dark Rulers, dueled with twigs from the apple tree, and snuck out at night, to get cheeseburgers from the old Wendy's. Stole pennies and dimes from the pockets of the headmaster. They went through a lot after all.
But now they were happy, and together. Both, him, and her.