[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: andale mono; font-size: 6.5pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 14px; "]The assurance was all he needed to feel content in knowing that she left because she wanted to. Maybe she missed Boy; that would be nice to believe, anyways. As she laughed, her apparent joy was infectious as Boy’s gaze lingered with amusement, a grin on his lips as he bobbed to the side like a buoy when she playfully pushed him. This all had to be too good to be true, he’d forever believe wholeheartedly. Trust him when he said that he had spent years trying to be himself well enough to catch her attention. Maybe he tried to seek something more than their friendship once or twice, but she seemed far more content with being best friends. If Sammy was happy, then so was Boy. And if she was willing to search for him the way she did, then obviously their friendship was solid enough for Boy to never have to doubt them.
❝ Sorry to burst your warped view on me, but I've never had my life together and never had much going for me back in Boston, or anywhere for that matter. ❞ Boy pulled his lips downwards into a thoughtful pout, remarking casually, ❝ I dunno. Could’ve fooled me ❞, before he turned his head to give Sam a closed-lip smile. He watched the way her brown eyes searched the surface of the water, as if it would soon give her the right words to say. From then on, Boy’s smile faltered because this wasn’t the usual Sammy who’d throw him a seemingly unamused look, trying to conceal the smile that tried to will itself onto her lips. The conversation felt too sombre; something didn’t feel right. Eyes lingered on her face carefully for several seconds more, brows gently knitting together with concern as he said nothing in response to her next words.
No place is worth being if you aren’t there.
He looked away. Did she actually feel that way about him? Whilst Sammy didn’t have a lot, especially after her aunt died a few years back, she sure as hell had so much more going for her that it felt almost as if her connection with Boy was only holding her back. Boy had already come to accept that he was quite the lost cause, bumbling along through life and getting on the wrong side of all authority. If he could actually manage to make it past the age of twenty one, then he would predict that life wouldn’t change much from what it had always been. He often felt as if that only strayed Sam farther away from her potential. This whole world was her oyster, and yet she chose to spend it with him. It was the sad truth but, as much Boy pined for her, he also hoped that someday she’d realise that she was worth more than whatever he could give her.
❝ Boy… I need to tell you something. ❞ Sam broke the silence once more as Boy darted his eyes back over towards her. She couldn’t even look at him as she tried to get the words out, but all confessions faltered. Boy’s face fell as he anxiously awaited whatever she had to get off her chest but, whatever it was, Boy feared that — judging from Sam’s stammering — he wasn’t going to like it. Next, she asked that he promise not to react in his usual unrestrained manner. That meant that he definitely wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. Had he done something wrong to hurt her? Was she about to tell him that she was going to scram the same way that he had back in Boston?
He pulled his shoulders up in a drawn out shrug, head tipped to the side as he tried to pull a casual pout her way. ❝ I’ll be as good as gold, Chica! ❞ He held a hand up nonchalantly as if he was working in overdrive just to try and reassure her. At least just enough for her to have the courage to tell him what she was meaning to say. Boy couldn’t help but sweat, however — whatever it sounded like, it didn’t seem good. He returned to all seriousness, lowering his hand to rest back down on the railing as he then asked, ❝ Sammy, you good? ❞
❝ Sorry to burst your warped view on me, but I've never had my life together and never had much going for me back in Boston, or anywhere for that matter. ❞ Boy pulled his lips downwards into a thoughtful pout, remarking casually, ❝ I dunno. Could’ve fooled me ❞, before he turned his head to give Sam a closed-lip smile. He watched the way her brown eyes searched the surface of the water, as if it would soon give her the right words to say. From then on, Boy’s smile faltered because this wasn’t the usual Sammy who’d throw him a seemingly unamused look, trying to conceal the smile that tried to will itself onto her lips. The conversation felt too sombre; something didn’t feel right. Eyes lingered on her face carefully for several seconds more, brows gently knitting together with concern as he said nothing in response to her next words.
No place is worth being if you aren’t there.
He looked away. Did she actually feel that way about him? Whilst Sammy didn’t have a lot, especially after her aunt died a few years back, she sure as hell had so much more going for her that it felt almost as if her connection with Boy was only holding her back. Boy had already come to accept that he was quite the lost cause, bumbling along through life and getting on the wrong side of all authority. If he could actually manage to make it past the age of twenty one, then he would predict that life wouldn’t change much from what it had always been. He often felt as if that only strayed Sam farther away from her potential. This whole world was her oyster, and yet she chose to spend it with him. It was the sad truth but, as much Boy pined for her, he also hoped that someday she’d realise that she was worth more than whatever he could give her.
❝ Boy… I need to tell you something. ❞ Sam broke the silence once more as Boy darted his eyes back over towards her. She couldn’t even look at him as she tried to get the words out, but all confessions faltered. Boy’s face fell as he anxiously awaited whatever she had to get off her chest but, whatever it was, Boy feared that — judging from Sam’s stammering — he wasn’t going to like it. Next, she asked that he promise not to react in his usual unrestrained manner. That meant that he definitely wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. Had he done something wrong to hurt her? Was she about to tell him that she was going to scram the same way that he had back in Boston?
He pulled his shoulders up in a drawn out shrug, head tipped to the side as he tried to pull a casual pout her way. ❝ I’ll be as good as gold, Chica! ❞ He held a hand up nonchalantly as if he was working in overdrive just to try and reassure her. At least just enough for her to have the courage to tell him what she was meaning to say. Boy couldn’t help but sweat, however — whatever it sounded like, it didn’t seem good. He returned to all seriousness, lowering his hand to rest back down on the railing as he then asked, ❝ Sammy, you good? ❞
[align=center]
I CALL IT AS I SEE IT, I'M STRAIGHT AS SHOOTERS GO.
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 6pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]I MIGHT INDULGE A LITTLE, I SAID ❝ FUCK IT ❞ LONG AGO.
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 6pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]I MIGHT INDULGE A LITTLE, I SAID ❝ FUCK IT ❞ LONG AGO.