you're just a young girl, but grief doesn't care. it takes over your life with little warning ( just the accompaniment of screeching tires ). it's a selfish friend. it won't settle for second best. so, it teams up with death until it's all you have left.
in damon’s eyes, there’s nothing quite like staring up at the stars to remind him how vast the universe is – how the world really is a blip on the radar, and in comparison he’s a glorified spec of dust, and his problems are all even smaller. he’s learned it over a century and a half of lying on deserted back roads waiting for carriages, and then cars; of trying to find a MEANING somewhere and match it up to his existence. but this time he’s not searching the stars for any kind of grand answer. that meaning is lying right next to him on a layer of blankets and this time, he’s admiring for the view. this time he’s grinning as she makes up her third constellation. he would’ve never called her out on it, if only to just hear her keep talking about them for a few more minutes. but it’s getting out of hand, as much as he loves the sound of her voice. ❛ as much as i love the pictures you paint —– one theater class and you think i’m falling for that, baby? ❜ but the truth is, he loves it when she gets all playful like this and she knows it. the easy teasing between them paired with the mesmerizing sight above them and it’s easy to convince himself that for a while, they’re in their own little world.
