Bitter sugar.

Shiny red Mercedes-Benz CLS roaring as he parked it in the garage of his dream (yes in a dream), breaking his insomnia series that was making him more of an ass hole by the day.

Maybe it was the new comforter his mother added to his bed linen for the winter, or perhaps the mug of coffee he had, before going to bed. He couldn’t tell either.
All he knew was that his life was going to change for good. If only his conscience had warned him about the burden of being accountable for death…

Sweet killer.

Tyne, a lonely 18 (soon to be 19) year old had always been more of a loner.
As long as he had a few mint lozenges,  roaming data, and that, low-lit, echoey bedroom that made blasting his music that much creepier,  he was okay.
He had been comfortable living this way until he met her. She was what he didn’t know, was missing in his life.

Upon the first gaze, he knew she’d be perfect. Tyne had been eyeing her for quite a while, and nothing about her awkwardness ever made her less likable…to him.

She was a perfect blend of silent-crazy and smart. Similar to his favorite ice cream; plain soft twirl vanilla. A good amount of flavor and an even more generous amount of sweetness.  The kind that keeps you wanting more, with no added syrup.
He knew there was something about her, something different. Something he definitely had to taste.  Sure, her rear was something to look at, and that was the thing. The bit of chunk to her figure, made her character seem that much warmer and inviting.

He noticed that his bed was feeling a whole lot bigger and much colder. He wondered if it would be warmer if she were to be in it, with him.
Feverish, with nerves and possibly a cold, he approached her days after contemplating it in his head.Unfortunately, he lost the battle to himself. He was in love. In love alone, though not for long.

Weeks following what seemed to Tyne like a cat and mouse chase,  she soon declared her love for him too.

Days felt like mere hours whenever she was around, they had way too much in common, way too much to talk about. Midnight calls, laughs and random kisses. It was beautiful,  scary but beautiful.

The fear was hers.  Too scared he might just be like the rest. Even though he’d repeatedly tell her there’s nothing to worry about,  she would worry anyway. Bit by bit, she’d asked him questions, which seemed to him to root from lack of trust, which he failed to understand why. She’d been the only one in his mind all along.
As the questions were being asked more frequently,  he was slowly getting annoyed  and she could tell. He loved her regardless. She did too, however..

It didn’t matter now, not anymore, because…insecurities strangled her to death, very much like the rope around her neck. He was innocent,  but she didn’t know that ,she’d never know that now.