It was cold outside, the smell of a random persons cigarette bud laying on the ground, burning minutes before we were ever there. We stood on the cracked sidewalk with a child's footprint stamped into it from 1945. It had snowed that afternoon right before we decided to meet up. The foot print was barley noticeable besides the snow being a light dusting. He was dressed up for the weather i was not. I never was. The jacket i was wearing was merely for the fall. I had hoped to be given his jacket that was too small for me and had smelt of the burnt marshmallows from the scented candle his mom always had lit. But something had felt warm.

No i didn't pee my self, i didn't get given his jacket, and i didn't go and get a warmer one. It was all a dream, he didn't exist. They said no one came to visit me in the time of my monthly long slumber besides my family, and if they did they must have been really good at sneaking in. Maybe i was still dreaming, that I'd wake up seventy years later like Steve Rogers and find out everybody i knew was dead. But no, i wasn't that lucky. I sadly did not wake up in the middle of 3012 to Nick Fury's great great grandson greeting me in a trench coat.

The name was at the tip of my tongue. It was like the barnacle on a whale, i know its there but i need some help getting it off. I could describe the other person to a T. The way his eyes squint when he smiles, the nervous hand through the hair when he laughs around someone he doesn't know, and the sadness of his eyes when he zones out into space before coming back into the sad reality we live in. But Dr.Eckleburg said it was a fantasy, but so is his last name but he'd probably transfer me into a different therapist if i mentioned anything about him being the eyes of a billboard.

I felt warm because i found him in a coffee shop by accident. I wouldn't have known it was him if i didn't feel like someone was watching me. That was the weird thing though, i always thought someone was watching me. He looked away quickly, and pushed his hair back out of his eyes, his nervous tick kicking in like the old times. I'm not even sure if there was the old times, i don't even know if it was real. But his stares tell me other wise, and the napkin with a phone number by my coffee cup after i came back from the bathroom tells me he isn't a dream. That the sad song playing on the shops speakers and the one ply napkin was a since of familiarity I've felt before and the dash of a shivering cold chill told me it was filled with pure imagination.

A/N
I haven't updated in awhile, so yeah why not.
I feel like as I continue to write this stuff I don't put this in any type of point of view because I don't really ship Brallon anymore. I like Panic! And IDHBTFM music and everything but I feel like this was just 8th grade emo phase me barley pushing through me, keeping me going. I am thankful to the people who have read both books, and I will continue this book but maybe not in any specific POV. I will how ever, continue with the Allie and Miles thing because I kind of enjoy it.

These books have helped my writing improve in many ways. I have a book out called Bucky Barnes and His Adventures of Being a Single Father.

I also have a new Instagram called book._.worm101 if you want to follow!

I'll update when I can!~Nelly_thefangirl