Wonderstruck

Do you ever just see a beautiful stranger? Not just a stranger that looks nice, but a really beautiful stranger who just captures you with the way they look and the way they act and makes you think about them at 2 am. A beautiful stranger that leaves you wonder struck and makes you somehow want to see them again and be with them forever yet at the same time, make you want to stay away from them so they remain this mysterious beautiful person that's in the world that would never hurt you.
I should have gone with the latter.

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Rosy's point of view

I go over to Ethan's the next day. I'm secretly really happy to see him but also still a bit pissed off with him even though I'm not angry anymore. I don't know, I feel like we go through these phases where our relationship is about our egos rather than actually loving each other. I hate to think about it so I put it to the back of my mind every time I think about it. 

"Hey." he smiles, wrapping his arms around my waist as he shuts the door behind us. 

"Hey." I say quietly, kissing him briefly. I try to walk to the couch but he sighs, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me back. 

"I'm sorry." he looks me in the eye. I look back at his eyes. They're the most beautiful shade of blue, it still shocks me every time. 

I sigh, shrugging. "I don't know if I'm pissed off with you to be honest. I think I'm just annoyed at the two of us as a pair."

He frowns, still holding onto me. "What do you mean?" 

"You barely did anything wrong and I still acted like you'd really hurt me!" I say, exasperated. "I saw it as an opportunity for us to be off with each other and I don't know why I wanted that, but I did."

He lets go of me, shaking his head. "I'm so done with this."

My stomach clenches in the worst way. I really didn't think this was going to turn into an actual argument. I'm so exhausted even by the thought of being in another argument with him but it's happening.

"Done with what?" I ask, desperately. Tears are already falling down onto my cheeks. I can't bear the thought of fighting with him again. I can't bear the thought of him not feeling like he's in love with me again, even if he still is. 

"I'm done with loving you this much!" he says, frustrated. "I hate that I love you so much when you don't even want this to last! I hate that I love you so much and all you do is look for the opportunity to argue with me! I'm sorry, Rosy, but I don't deserve it!"

"Like I deserve any of the crap you give me!" I exclaim back. "I'm done with you always making me feel bad because I don't want my boyfriend I had when I was fifteen to be my freaking husband!"

"Don't act like that's all I am to you." he says in a low voice, shaking his head. "Don't you dare act like I'm just some stupid teenage phase, not after what we've been through. Not after everything I've done for you."

"Don't you dare give me that!" I yell back. "You thought that girl you went out with when you were fourteen was the love of your life, that obviously wasn't true! I'm only a year older than you were, how do you know that I'm not thinking like you were?"

"You and I both know that's not true." he says in the same low voice which is more terrifying than when he shouts. 

"No we don't!" I shout because if I speak normally, my voice will show how scared I really am. I suddenly feel so angry and shove him, hard. He stumbles backwards, not looking shocked, but looking furious. He should look shocked. He shouldn't be okay with the thought of me pushing him.

"All you're trying to do is mess us up!" he yells now, too angry not to. He shoves me back with so much force I would fall if the wall wasn't behind me. "Why should I love you so much, why should I care when you just try to ruin it all the time!"

My heart breaks. I feel like I've just fallen into pieces. Not necessarily because of what he just said, but because of the fact that we really do not like each other right now. Because of the fact that we're arguing again. Because of the fact that we've chosen our own egos over each other again. I just feel exhausted. I don't shout back, I don't storm out, I don't cry. I just walk out the door, not even closing it. I go and sit on a bench in the park in the freezing cold and sit there and cry. It's not a sob, it's not a cry where my face is scrunched up. I just sit there, tears streaming down my face, letting my heart hurt.

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