[WIP] Orange is the Warmest Colour (on You) [#1]

Orange is the Warmest Colour (on You)
unnamed characters (i might reveal it one day. one day.); fluffy shit w/ hints of drama; G; NO WORD COUNT HERE SHOO.
note: it’s gonna be an installment of WIPs so beware. the actual note is down there. friendly warning for grammatical mistakes and the inconsistent tenses and the cheesy plot and yeah bye.

there’s a first for everything.

.

That first day, through the heavy wooden door, your voice, in hushed tone, could be heard. It was quiet but somehow soothing, a not-yet-matured timbre of a boy still toeing the line of adulthood.

I peeked through the slits between the barely-opened door, intrigued to see a new figure inside, though I can’t see your face . The old librarian saw me first, greeting me like how he always did. Then you looked up and I saw those almond orbs staring at me before you averted your gaze down.

The first impression was you carried an air of indifference. You looked aloof and vacant with your immaculately black-rimmed eyes staring blankly and face void of expression, only nodding in acknowledgement when the old librarian greeted you with his greatest respect. The princess, he had announced while he introduced us, as your eyes caught mine.

He’s the new librarian, the old man said. You smiled shyly, bowing curtly as you mention your name, and I was almost certain that I blushed here and there.

I thought you were just one of those cocky and impolite nobles who knows no manner when it comes to the lesser, but turns out you were just afraid of showing your emotions, so the librarian said. She’s nice, actually, he had defended back then, once you had cracked through the wall surrounding her.

And, you know what? Breaking through your mental wall was written in my to-do list, though I didn’t know why before.

Maybe I have fallen right from the start to the voice of yours that I have learnt to adore the most.

Second impression was you appeared more mature than your actual age. Maybe it’s because of the impeccable manner you showcased or the royal blood running in your veins. Or could it came from the stern expression you always wear? Needless to say, I thought we were of same age, and I was surprised when I found out that you’re actually three years younger than me. (I’m not saying that you looked old, do you get it?)

You looked not much older than myself, with the boyish features of your face and the lanky figure you sported, age barely tittering on the end of growth spurt. I scurried over to the farthest section of the library after returning your greeting, almost stepping into a pile of books haphazardly stacked in the middle of the corridor. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and I hope-but-kind-of-not for you to forget it.

The first day’s memory’s still living vividly in my mind, and I’m not planning to change that. That mixture of apologetic look and anguish on your flushed face when you almost-tripped on the books I had yet to sort was priceless.

Don’t kill me, please.

end.

so. it’s kind of a… well-known fact that i don’t write much nowadays… at least to me…? which explains my awkward wording…? this is a remake of a story i had written like two or three years ago. and about how i write it, i’m trying a new style of writing…….? i think? i wrote it on points because actually it’s still a WIP (yeah, this is how i do my plots). haha. i want to develop the narrative, though, but maybe it’ll be a cheesy mess of words so maybe i should leave it like this. sorry for the grammatical mistakes here and there and yeah let’s start okay bye.

tl;dr: i’m sorry.

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