The beginning...in Rhysand's eyes.

*

Rhysand's on his second cigarette when he hears her voice.

"It's fine, we're going to talk," she says, stepping out of the car, carefully cradling a red box like a newborn baby. Rhysand bites the stick in between his teeth and pockets his lighter, turning his torso around, stuck to the wall, to watch lazily. 'Thanks, Sab. You're the best."

The driver waves her hand. "I'm telling MJ. Bye."

He tilts his head at Luke's little girlfriend, inhaling his smoke. Girlfriend? Rhysand almost laughs. Girl friend. Maybe lackey. A lost puppy, worshipping the ground that shithead walks on. It's fucking ridiculous and kind of entertaining.

He watches her turn around to their apartment, take a deep breath, presses a palm to her chest.

Then she goes inside.

Rhysand looks away, crossing his arms, leaning against the wall.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes, and he fishes that out.

GOOD NEWS says Jenner. Got my roommate to move out by next week, you can move in then!!! EXCITING SHIT

Rhysand inhales, savoring the taste of nicotine, and blows it out, dangling the stick between his fingers while he types his reply. about fucking time.

He sends that, and then his hands pause.

And before he can think about it, he types another message. She's here again.

Jenner's reply is quick. Luke's pretty lady? :000

Rhysand can't help his snort. Believe me, they're not fucking dating. But yes, the pretty one.

....;DDD

what the fuck is that

You think she's pretty, huh

I have eyes, moron. Rhysand rolls them, putting the cigarette back in between his lips. I'm not blind.

Send me a pic, I wanna see how pretty she is to catch ur attention

No that's fucking creepy. and she's annoying. He sends that and pockets his phone, leans against the wall and tilts his head upwards.

Then he hears loud footsteps come down the stairs, like they're rushing to get out, and Rhysand catches her stepping outside, face wet, eyes red, hands shaking as they hold up the box.

Annoyance prickles at his skin. Does this girl not do anything except for smile and fucking cry?

Well, Rhysand thinks, shaking his head. That's her fault—she decided to like a fucking...shithead.

But his eyebrows furrow, because—why is she crying? Did she finally find her guts and tell him it's over—whatever the fuck they had?

That makes sense, if her tears are anything to go by. He almost smirks. Interesting. After being stupid enough to slave after him for months? Good for her.

He stares at the side of her face, eyes narrowing. Wherever he fucking looks—chin, forehead, nose, eyes, cheeks, jaw—they're all—they're all pretty. What the fuck.

He almost flinches in surprise when her eyes meet his. "Oh, jeepers," she whispers, breath catching, clearly surprised, too.

Jeepers? What the fuck is that?

And now that he's noticed—her eyes are a piercing blue. Really, really, really blue. Electric, even. But on her face, they almost look...soft.

Soft? Rhysand grits his teeth.

"Hello," she says quietly.

It's not the first time she's tried to strike up a conversation with him. Rhysand remembers another quiet, "Hi! I'm Andy," in their kitchen a few weeks ago, when he was grabbing a soda and to his horror, she stood up to follow him even though he was praying in his head she wouldn't—and Rhysand just. Ignored her and left.

He also remembers Luke knocking on his door and tossing a box—very similar to the one she's holding now—on his desk.

Rhysand finished all the cheese tarts in less than an hour.

Rhysand stares at her. He can't help it.

"That thing will kill you, you know," she tries again, pink lips pulling up into a small smile, finger raising to point at the stick in his mouth.

Rhysand feels his heart stop, but his face doesn't give anything away.

What the fuck—what the fuck was that smile? He's almost mesmerized, breath catching, gulping—why did it feel like—yellow. There. Goddamn yellow.

She steps forward and clears her throat, arm stretching out to him. "Here. Have you tried them before?"

Rhysand looks at the box. He's right—cheese tarts!

Her hands are shaking. Rhysand almost raises an eyebrow—is she scared of him?

She shouldn't be. He has piercings and tattoos and a damn cigarette, and he's a...a decent asshole. Not a monster.

Yellow doesn't know that, though. He catches the way her hands almost take it back, still shaking, so Rhysand reaches for it. They're free and fuckin' tasty. Why not?

He stares at her again.

She blinks. How are her eyes so piercing blue but so fucking—soft? Jesus. "Oh. Cool. I hope you enjoy them. I made them myself!"

Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She's smiling again.

Warm. Sun. Goddamnit—yellow.

Rhysand could write a million love songs about that smile.

Frustrated, he puts the stick in his mouth and inhales, still staring at her, frozen, fucking—mesmerized, and turns his head when he blows the smoke out.

In his peripheral, he sees her scrunch her nose and cover the lower half of her face.

His mouth curves, watching her—and then her face lights up, like an idea just popped into her head, and her hand goes into her bag.

Rhysand's curious. He puts the cigarette back into his mouth and watches her hands.

Hands, not her face. Because she's grinning, and Rhysand's heart is still racing. Doing fucking jumping jacks.

She pulls out a—lollipop? And begins to unwrap it.

Is she planning to suck on that thing while he smokes? He almost snickers.

But she's not, because she pockets the wrapper, pushes up on her tiptoes to reach him, grabs the cigarette from his mouth and puts the lollipop in. "That's better."

Rhysand's...he's...she just—

She.

He doesn't.

He feels. Jaw slack, and—yellow. Sunshine. Sunshine?

She turns around to leave, his stick in her hand, and Rhysand reacts before she damages her fucking face.

Puts his hand over her forehead, knuckles meeting the metal pole she would've slammed into. He hisses quietly at the impact, but he's glad she didn't injure herself.

He expects her to say thank you, but she doesn't. Just starts running.

Rhysand can't help himself. He fucking laughs.

Pulling out his phone, he types a message to Jenner, sucking on the lollipop. Hm. That's not so bad. Sunshine is fucking cute.

He can just imagine his best friend's wide eyes reading that message. >QKAJSDJS???? WHAT? SUNSHINE? WHO? CUTE?

Rhysand smirks. He pushes the lollipop against his cheek and goes in the apartment, swinging the little box of cheese tarts.