neverendingshorts///

I do remember that night.

Azariah’s birthday.
A few days before my departure.
I was feeling at my coolest with my pulp fiction shoes
and Shoreditch smirk.

He’s never spoken to me before.

-but I knew him (though), obviously.
Point is, he was stylishly messy with blue eyes and
a thing for vintage frames.

He said ‘hi, come over’ in his dry tone voice

Whilst caressing the empty chair next to him.

I was surprised that he had seen me from this Fresh prince infused room.

Not to mention, I had been salivating over him for an hour or so.

I guess he had noticed my evident charm and wit.

It was only natural; I jumped over hills from a menial gesture from this

-Self-discipline vintage framed boy but no no no

I fucking tripped over my own ankles
Urgh.

Maybe I should have gotten new shoes or something?