/a-mə-ˈran(t)-thən/

●●●

She was beautifully out of place,

Sometimes I believe she intended to be like the moon during the day.

●●●

He noticed.

He noticed on how she distanced herself from him, on how their kisses (Which they barely had anymore because they were never alone) were too short for his liking. It's not even that he pulled back first, it was always her. No matter who initiated the kiss, she would always be the one to pull back first.

And Aaron didn't like it one bit.

He wanted her lips longer against his own, because how could he memorise her mouth when she only gave him 3 seconds to work with? Perhaps he could though, he could memorise the curves of her lips in 3 seconds, but he wanted to take it slow; to be gentle and careful.

And whenever he would be waiting for her at the entrance of the school, she'd look so queasy and anxious that it would make Aaron so confused.

Or maybe Aaron was just over thinking again, and making a big deal of nothing. And he thought that maybe it was just a phase.

But he couldn't push away the fear that sparked up in him, that maybe, she was already seeing the things he was afraid she would.

Or perhaps he was just being melodramatic again. Aaron tried to convince himself that he was.

✧✧✧

Maybe if Aaron was a different person, he would be as frightened. But he wasn't.

He was Aaron DeGarner: a lanky, 6'3, 17 year old boy with screw ups for parents and a fuck up for an elder brother - which inevitably made him a fuck up too.

Maybe if he had a different mindset, he would accept the fact fully that Rose wasn't just some girl to him. But he didn't. Because that's exactly what screw ups for parents do to you - they make you see the bad before the good.

And when that didn't exactly work out for Rose, he thought there was something wrong with her. That there was a wickedness lurking in her; swimming through her veins until it will unleash itself right in Aaron's chest. Oh how wrong he was. Instead, he fell in love with her.

And maybe if Aaron was braver, he'd tell her that. He'd tell her that he loved her more than he has ever loved anything in this world. That even if she didn't love him back, he would still love her just as much. But he wasn't. Aaron was a coward, and he was afraid. Afraid that if he told her, he'd scare her off.

Sometimes it would scare him too on how much he felt for Rose. The heart that he thought was frozen and impenetratable carried all his love for her on its shoulders, and even so, it still wasn't all. There was still so much more love than his heart could ever bear.

If he was another story, things might have been different.

If his chapters were half as interesting as his novellas, maybe things would've ended up differently.

If his epilogue was as intense as his climax, his sequel would have been different.

If his dust jacket was as sturdy as his hardcover, then Aaron would have never drowned in the cracks of his bedroom walls.

If he was stronger, he would have never collapsed into a void of oblivion.

If he was braver, James wouldn't be suffering.

If.

✧✧✧

At the time, it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

At the time, it seemed like he was being strong -No, I won't do this anymore Father- that his voice would be laced with iron steadiness, that his footsteps would echo with sturdy pride as he left the house.

At the time, he thought escaping the walls that would keep him safe would ensure his freedom.

If that was the case, why did he feel so trapped?

His skies were always cloudy, embroiled with shards of pepper, charcoal and onyx. The gaps of sunshine that still managed to peek through the holes of his ashy sky was what made him remember he was human.

Then why did he feel like he was a shadow roaming around the living?

Aaron was already missing before he left. He was just a hollow body aimlessly walking in the areas he thought he could find himself in.

But he lost it.

He lost the part of himself that he had every right to keep; got ripped away the section of himself that made him him.

The part of him that made him feel human.

✧✧✧

It was always raining.

At first Aaron thought the drizzles of torment and lies would eventually wear away; the these clouds of evil would leave at one point.

But that was before the lightning.

The lightning made his leaves of hope tremble with uneasiness; his bark of steadiness shake with anxiety. But Aaron was still believing - It will all go away, it will all go away, it will all go away- still hoping that everything would be okay.

Then came the thunder.

It first stroked its baleful currents around him; shaking the ground until Aaron's roots couldn't handle it couldn't handle it couldn't handle it.

And he fell down.

He fell and he hit the ground with a bone breaking crack. He was cut open but he was still strong -It's okay it's going to be okay going to be okay- he still had his soul anchored to his leaves; life embedded in his bark.

But that was before the storm.

Before they completely ruined him.

✧✧✧

It was all pain.

He could feel each strike of thunder electrifying his skin, burning away his hopes, tearing him apart.

He could feel the lightning blitz through his armored trunk; the caustic water and hail slithering into the gaps of him that he couldn't cover up.

The fierce winds kept him down -it was like a rope wrapping itself around him- crashing away any breath he has ever reserved; blowing away any flickers of hope in him.

He was bleeding on the ground; screaming and scratching -trying to push them away- but it was all so pathetically futile.

It was first his leaves.

H̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶e̶n̶g̶t̶h̶.̶

Then his bark.

H̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶a̶n̶i̶t̶y̶.̶

They were like vultures tearing him apart; like parasites living off him. They were peeling off every layer they could see, chewing away the parts that were the most valuable.

It was all evil and disease entering his body and it was his goodness and immunity leaving.

And after all of him was gone, after all his worthiness vanished, after he died, it never became the same.

Because how could you build something that has absolutely nothing?

✧✧✧

It was always clouds.

After Aaron kept the bits of him left into the gaps of his skin; stitched back the bleeding gashes until they were scarred blisters, it was when it struck him.

His rays of sunshine were gone.

He was all black now; all hail and icy cold. All dangerous thunderstorms and violent hurricanes.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Because he wasn't him anymore.

He wasn't the Arcadian mixture of blue and silver on a drizzle; he was the black sky with daggers of thunder. He wasn't the cool breeze that graciously flushed people's cheeks; he was the freezing typhoons that made people vigorously shiver.

He was the hail that dissolved the sand, the growls of lightning that awakened its victims, the cause of purple lips and blue fingertips. He was the reason for amputated limps and the frost settling on top of dead bodies.

He was a disaster.

And he didn't know how to stop.

✧✧✧

He was waiting for the sun too.

He was tired of causing icy typhoons every time he breathed, fed up of concocting hail and thunder when he was just innocently sneezing.

He wanted to stop his accidental casualties, his brutal killings.

He wanted to stop the clattering teeth and the purple limps; he wanted to stop the icy lips and the swollen eyes.

But how could he stop it when ruin was living in his veins; when pure chaos was at the tips of his fingers?

How could you make someone stop being vicious when everything good was taken away?

Because what Aaron was stolen from wasn't gold or diamonds. It was so much more valuable.

It was his humanity.

It was the part in him that appreciated the comely beauty in things, the part of him that glowed with such starlight that it was his light that revealed constellations. The part in him that mattered.

Now, there were unexplainable storms in his eyes and earthquakes in the click of his fingers.

Now there was just the hollow feeling of what he once was.

Now, there was nothing left.

Nothing.

✧✧✧

Aaron lost hope.

At first he didn't want to believe it -I can't lose hope it's the only thing left I can't can't can't- but slowly, it started becoming more than just half thought words.

Soon, it became more than just barely there smiles and slurred statements. It became more than just still silences and dreamless slumbers. It became more than just lonely nights and bleached mornings.

Soon, it became more than just wishing. More than just prayers whispering against his lips, concealed by his little white lies.

Because his time was running out and so was his freedom, and so was his hope. His hope for a miracle, for a sign. Just hope.

It was fading, and it was fading fast; burying the rest of him with it. It was almost like water splashing against a masterpiece; watching as all the livid colours turned into muddy shades of grey and black as they smiles turned into whimpers, as the laughs turned into choked sobs. As the alive turned into dead.

And even the world became bleak, and if Aaron allowed it, it would've probably swallowed him whole too.

His heart was just something in him that reminded him he was alive. The beats became background music in his catastrophic mind. At one point, it didn't even matter to Aaron if it stopped.

It was when he was roaming around the empty streets at 3 am; his hoodie pulled up to cover more than half of his chocolate brown hair did he realize he truly lost all his hope.

When he truly realized how empty he was, how drained he felt. It was when he opened his eyes in hope of colour and smiles and sounds, only to be given the realest reality check when instead of shooting stars, he saw hollow skies; instead of smiles, he saw pursed lips and stern eyes. Instead of feeling the warmth of sunshine encouragement, he received the biting cold of command.

He left the living for a while only to find out that everyone was already dead. Hearts might be beating and lungs might be breathing, but the light in everyone has worn out.

And at one point, so did Aaron's.

✧✧✧

Rose was different.

And Aaron has met a lot of people throughout his life; some scarring him more while the others just didn't matter.

But Rose was different.

She never tried to break down his layers of secrecy, never tried to untie his armor of sobbing confessions.

And instead of feelings her sharp fingernails clawing at his chest, he only felt the gentlest caress of her hands on his shoulders, instead of hearing the livid screams of Tell me! he only heard the softest whisper of I'm here and you'll be okay with her.

She was different.

For when he started reading the pages of her soul, it was when he realized he loved her.

For he knew that every word her soul was whispering to her, were the words he would keep hidden in his heart for eternity.

Rose was more beautiful than any book he has ever read.

Rose was a miracle no metaphor could represent; a soul that no personification could recreate.

She was more than just similes and alliterations and hyperboles; she was absolutely indefectible.

No amount of exaggerations could capture the unpredictable sparkle in her eyes, and no onomatoepia could even begin to describe the octaves and tunes of her laughter.

Rose was the kind of girl writers would create new adjectives for; beautiful synonyms for beautiful words. She was the kind of girl whom Shakespeare stayed up til dawn for, the kind that made Charles Dickens brainstorm for.

She seemed like the heart of literature, they very soul of English, overflowing with words.

Aaron knew that if Rose was a book, he'd never put her down.

And he'd never stop reading.

✧✧✧

"Are you sure you're alright?" Rose nudged his jaw with her nose. "You're still frowning."

"Was I ever smiley to begin with?"

She cracked a grin. "But still - I mean would it kill you to smile around me?"

"Not really," Aaron shrugged. "But it might kill you."

"Now you're just being a narcissist again."

He could feel the corner of his mouth quirk up. He then shrugged. "I'm the narcissist and you're the nerd, that's why we click."

She gave him a look. "Speak for yourself,"

"Alright, the awe-strikingly handsome one, and the overly psychologically informed one."

"I'm pretty sure you're smarter than me Aaron, so I believe you mean the awe-strikingly beautiful one."

"And you call me the narcissist."

She grinned. "There, you're smiling." He didn't even feel it.

He snuggled closer to her, smiling even more gently against her temple. "Shut up,"

"You're so mean,"

"I'm honest."

He kissed her temple, grinning. "You know cuddling promotes the release of oxytocin bringing two people closer together?"

"And you call me the nerd."

"I just gifted your brain cells with extra information and this is how you thank me?"

She grinned. "Thank you for telling me something I already know," She said before pecking his lips, lightly giggling. "You will drive me to therapeutic treatments Aaron, I swear."

He grinned. "That was kind of the plan,"

"Jerk,"

"Sweetheart,"

"Moron,"

"Honey,"

And she giggled.

And Aaron exploded as he always did.

"There's something wrong, I know," Rose whispered quietly. "And I'm just waiting for you to be ready to tell me what it is."

Aaron smiled sadly at her, his hand coming up to her cheek. "And I don't think you understand how much I appreciate that."

"You're not even sleeping properly," She muttered. "I can feel you moving around and tossing and turning."

He let out a sigh. "I always sleep better when I'm with you."

She kissed him for 3 seconds. "Then I'll always sleep with you."

"I was never afraid to sleep alone at night," He whispered."But what I am scared of is if I don't go to sleep alone but wake up feeling like I did."

Rose smiled sadly too. "Is that how you feel with me?"

"With you, I feel like I never want to wake up."

"What?" Aaron didn't even notice he was looking at Rose so intently. "You want to follow me down the rabbit hole?" She giggled.

He smiled. "No," Her amber eyes sent rushes of warmth to his face every time she blinked. "I will be the rabbit hole, so that I can catch you when you fall."

She laughed. "That was worse than my attempt at being romantic,"

He shrugged, but the thing about Aaron was he never says anything he doesn't mean.

✧✧✧

It took time. It did.

It took time for him to stop the hails he caused; took time for him to stop the explosions of lightning.

But he did it.

He broke free from the chains of death he was responsible for.

He subsided his storms of hail to sturdy drizzles; his vicious typhoons to subtle wind. He was now the reason for coloured cheeks and Popsicle stained lips; the cause of children giggling, sundresses and bicycle rides.

He shoved away all the evil and locked it in a closet; burying it where he -or anyone else for that matter- would ever find it.

But now, that wasn't the case.

Now the closet has been knocked open; spreading all the wickedness and illness back into the world.

Back into Aaron.

And good God he didn't want it -Please no no no no no- not when he just earned his freedom.

Not when he started feeling human again.

✧✧✧

"Is this considered a date?" Aaron randomly blurted out as he and Rose watched a short show on the television.

She glanced at him. "Well if you consider my bed head, your tea stained shirt and my wrinkled shirt date appropriate, then go for it."

"You were the one who spilled the tea-"

"It was an accident!" Rose justified. "And besides, I was more concerned about the skin under your shirt you moron."

"But I think you look beautiful," Aaron smiled, giving her a small kiss.

"Stop," She muttered. "I don't even want to think of what happened to my hair."

His fingers subconsciously went to her tangled strands. "It's beautiful," She gave him a look. "Okay, a little tangled, but it's still lovely."

"Aaron, are you by any chance British?" Rose questioned quietly, her hand coming up to caress his neck.

He tried to seem calm. "What makes you say that?"

Rose shrugged. "You have like a little accent, and it drives me absolutely insane." She smiled. "It's actually really adorable."

"Rose,"

"Okay okay, it's intriguing."

He contemplated whether he should tell her before he nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm from there."

Rose smiled so brilliantly that Aaron thought the universes would all burn with sunshine. "It suits you somehow,"

"If you even try to stereotype me-"

Rose shook her head, grinning. "I wasn't going to say anything. And besides, I don't believe in stereotypes, I think anyone can be anyone or anything they wish to be," Rose nodded her head. "But I mean you love your tea-"

"Rose,"

She just giggled and snuggled closer to Aaron; the side of her face pressed right against the left of his chest. He couldn't help but smile too, leaving a small kiss to her cheek.

She was his perfection in his hamartia; his dazzling constellations in his sky of calamitous soot. She was his beating heart in his lifeless chest; his roof in his broken apartment; his muse in his lachrymose performance. She was his euneirophrenia in his dreamless slumbers. His nepenthe of his sorrows and fears.

She was his everything.

Rose wasn't just a name to him anymore - it was the name of a miracle.

Because that's exactly what she was. A miracle.

She was sent down from the heavens above; magic encircling her palms and wisdom stained on her lips.

She fixed the things that he could even think of unscrambling.

She mended him when he was just bits of thread lying in between fully sewn clothes; stitched him back together even if all the needles were bend and blunt.

She fixed him without even trying.

And when Aaron noticed her sleepy smile, a small smile ghosting over his lips as he saw her fighting her sleep, he left a kiss to her forehead. He snuggled her closer to the blanket, a small breath leaving his lips as he watched her eyes fully veil down; her brown eyes already concealed while steady breaths left her lips.

"I love you," He whispered to her quietly, kissing her temple once more.