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gooseberryhigh2017-02-15 01:06 pm
destructobot.insanejournal.com) wrote in gooseberryhigh2017-02-15 01:06 pm
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Who: Wilde, open.
When: Feb 15th, around 4.
Where: Goosey Trail.
What: Radical skatin' angst patrol
Warnings: N/a. Language I guess?
Goosey Trail is Wilde's favorite.
He likes to roll down the path and look at the water, ignore everything he has to do for a handful of minutes. That's not always easy for him, but it's easy when he's here. Or it usually is, anyway -- today he can't seem to shake the clouds out of his head.
He goes up and down from Ribbonfin to the Lodge three times, and that feeling of freedom never really comes to him. He's thinking about those stupid flowers instead.
Hot pink roses? 'You make me hot?' Who the fuck do they think Saira is? It's disrespectful.
And when her name enters his head, he feels this weird jolt in his chest. He stops and steps off the board. He thinks about throwing it into the trees. A single fucking red rose. Who do I think I am? Embarrassing. The worst part is that he can't even pretend that the prank was so far off now, because his doomed crush is so fucking obvious that even whatever trite little bully picked up on it, which means everyone knows. He might as well have just signed his stupid name to the stupid card. Why didn't he? Maybe he'd feel a little less really stupid now.
Oh well.
The sky is darkening already. Wilde is going to stand in the grass and gaze out at the horizon and the island for a long time, until it's time to avoid everyone at dinner.
When: Feb 15th, around 4.
Where: Goosey Trail.
What: Radical skatin' angst patrol
Warnings: N/a. Language I guess?
Goosey Trail is Wilde's favorite.
He likes to roll down the path and look at the water, ignore everything he has to do for a handful of minutes. That's not always easy for him, but it's easy when he's here. Or it usually is, anyway -- today he can't seem to shake the clouds out of his head.
He goes up and down from Ribbonfin to the Lodge three times, and that feeling of freedom never really comes to him. He's thinking about those stupid flowers instead.
Hot pink roses? 'You make me hot?' Who the fuck do they think Saira is? It's disrespectful.
And when her name enters his head, he feels this weird jolt in his chest. He stops and steps off the board. He thinks about throwing it into the trees. A single fucking red rose. Who do I think I am? Embarrassing. The worst part is that he can't even pretend that the prank was so far off now, because his doomed crush is so fucking obvious that even whatever trite little bully picked up on it, which means everyone knows. He might as well have just signed his stupid name to the stupid card. Why didn't he? Maybe he'd feel a little less really stupid now.
Oh well.
The sky is darkening already. Wilde is going to stand in the grass and gaze out at the horizon and the island for a long time, until it's time to avoid everyone at dinner.