Tangible Magic

She was a good sort of girl. The kind that always did precisely what she was told, and never did anything else. The kind who smiled when she wanted to cry and told the world she was happy when all she wanted to do was disappear from it. Her life had been determined for her long ago, and she knew better than to try and escape the fate chosen for her. She knew better than to fight against the chains that held her, for surely that would only break her. 

 

But for all her golden grins and her softly spoken words of perfection, there was a side of her that seldom ever shone. It was the part of her that spent hours watching the stars from her bedroom window, wondering why they always, always sparkled. It was the part that chased the butterflies and caught the moonbeams in her hair. It was the part that imagined a day where she would let her heart decide.

 

And there was a boy, as there often is in these sorts of tales. He was precisely the type of boy she had been warned against, the sort that would do little more than harm her or corrupt her of her innocence. He was beautiful, in his way, however removed he may have been from the world. In reveled in his dark little corner and sulked, and that was alright with him. He had long since run out of resolutions, and longer since run out of reasons to try.

 

When they were together, it was tangible magic. Every laugh, every kiss, every brush of skin on skin, and nothing else mattered. She ceased to remember who she was and he ceased to forget why he lived. It was only him and her and the moon and the stars, and that was all there needed to be. The real world would do what it could to try and tear them apart, and they would only cling to each other tighter.

 

It was tangible magic when they were together, that starry-eyed girl and that hopeless boy. She thought much later that there was too little magic left in the ashes of the world, and she could not help but hate herself for destroying her very own piece.   

The End

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