*/ that's not coffee, sweetheart [lila]

[damien anthony wyle]

i see the sparkle of a million flashlights,

a w o n d e r w a l l o f s t a r s ,
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The Friday sun looked like it was about to set in an hour and a half, perhaps two. Damien shook his slightly wet hair. He had just taken a shower, and he was supposed to be meeting a friend here in about five minutes. But, knowing her, she was bound to be a little bit late. She always was. But that was one thing about her that Damien rather liked, it meant he could be slightly, just slightly, later than their appointed time. Dressed in a plain dark blue t-shirt and jeans with sneakers, Damien pushed open the doors to the coffee house. Damien walked over to the counter and bought a frappuccino for himself.

While waiting for his drink to be made, Damien plugged his iPod touch into his ears. The iPod was bought about a year ago, when his sister was on a sabbatical in New York, and it was on a discount. It didn't make up for her absence though. D missed her very often. Soon enough, his coffee arrived, and Damien grabbed it off the counter, paid, and walked over to a table near the glass door —the entrance. Damien took a sip of his frappuccino while glancing around. The place was dimly lit today, and there was quite a lack of customers. Maybe it was because it was Friday, after school hours. Most kids had somewhere better to be at this kind of time, didn't they?

Damien shook the damp hair that fell over his eyes. Honestly, the seventeen year old was getting a little restless now. He picked his drink up and walked over to the counter, where he saw the complimentary cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla and other flavored sprinkles. To his secretive delight, there was only one packet of cinnamon left. He grinned, picking it out of the pile and tucking it into his pocket, forgetting to go back to his spot on the table. He looked down at the table, sipping at his frappuccino.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
but the one that's shining out so bright,
i s t h e o n e r i g h t w h e r e y o u a r e

( OOC;; bleh sucky and short. sorry. )[/center][/font]

[lila fae jones]

Lila was late, she knew it. She was really, really late.

The seventeen year old girl fluttered down the stairs of her house as she combed through her curly, tangled hair. She was supposed to be meeting Damien now, and, as mentioned earlier, she was so obviously late. By ten entire minutes —and she hadn’t even left the house yet. She and Damien had scheduled this over an IM conversation about half an hour ago; and that half an hour ago had passed so quickly. Why? Because Lila was busy IM-ing a guy. A stranger, but a cute one. And apparently someone from Brookside. Thing was, she hadn’t caught his name.

All she had done, however, was chat with Damien, watch him sign off, find a public chat to join as she bantered and web-cammed with some stranger she didn’t even know the name of until she glanced at the clock on her computer’s start bar, cursed (a word which was not too colorful, yet not too innocent either) under her breath, and told the cute/hot/random stranger that she had to go. And then she changed out of her plain red tee and khaki shorts into a much more fitting (for Lila, at least) outfit. Now she wore a button-up plain white shirt, orange knee-high linen skirt, white socks that reached just below her knees, and a pair of suede beige boots with heels.

For Lila, this was under-dressing for the occasion. But she wasn’t going on a date, so she figured she didn’t have to work as hard as she might’ve around a guy she thought was cute. (like the stranger... what was his screen name again? She had to check.) Not that Damien wasn’t cute; he was, in a sort of... little brother, best friend way. Damien was a great guy, and any girl could fall for him —maybe. Just, not someone like Lila, who went for the bad boys and the trouble makers. This only resulted in her own broken heart, but she never learnt.

Her hair untangled, Lila reached for the keys inside the cabinet next to the door before heading out. Cellphone, wallet, lipgloss, mirror, iPod... all in her purse? Check. Satisfied, Lila began walking towards the coffee hut. By now, she was a full fifteen minutes late. She hoped and willed that Damien would still be there. He was patient and forgiving, no doubt, but there was an extent. And twenty minutes late was bordering insanity for him, someone who was always early, or liked to be, at least.

One foot after another, Lila finally came to the hut, where through the glass doors she saw Damien by the counter, facing away from her. She walked in quietly, ordering her usual —a caramel latte macchiato— from the counter and then heading over to Damien, whose back was facing her. Jumping slightly, Lila flung her hands over Damien’s eyes and giggled lightly. ”Hey adorable!” she joked, resting her chin on his shoulder, ”guess who?”

[damien anthony wyle]

i see the sparkle of a million flashlights,

a w o n d e r w a l l o f s t a r s ,
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Damien put down his drink as he slowly browsed through the songs on his iPod with the movement of his index finger. Not that one... nope, that doesn't fit the current mood... hmm, should this song be listened to? Damien finally picked out a song and clicked on the 'play' button, flipping through the images. Maybe he could pass the time here, because Lila was so obviously going to be late, just that he didn't know late by how long, and if it was too long, he would—

”Hey adorable! Guess who?”

The voice startled him just like how the sound of fireworks startled him while getting ready for bed —it was slightly annoying, in a way, but at the same time it was a sound he was more than happy to hear. Yes, we're still talking about fireworks. But in some twisted, strange way, Lila's voice reminded him of just that. Which was neither a good thing nor a bad thing; it was just a random fact.

Damien jumped at her voice at first, and nearly slipped his iPod right out of his palms, but caught it just in time to prevent it from falling onto the floor. D was really thankful his frappuccino was not in his hands, lest he would have almost dropped that too. The seventeen year old turned used his hands to take Lila's off of his eyes and turned to face her, a grin apparent on his face. He kept hold to Lila's hands and, in the most Romeo-ish voice he could manage (which turned out terribly), said to her, "You're the only one in this entire world who calls me adorable, my beautiful girl."

Anyone who witnessed the scene would have thought that Damien and Lila seemed like a couple, when it was so much more than that. Damien loved Lila like a brother would love his sister, like a friend would love a friend, like a boy would love his dog... Or something around the likes of that, at least. Forget the thing about the dog, though. Out loud now, that sounded like a lot of crap. Damien rubbed his eyes and picked up his frappuccino, taking a sip as he looked back at Lila.

And, unsurprisingly, she was dressed in something many others would have described as 'over-doing it'. But D was surprise at her restraint from wearing something even more attention-grabbing. Knowing her, she might have worn zebra-striped or leopard-printed stockings instead of those white socks, which already stood out. But that was how she was, wasn't she? She had a special sense of fashion, and Damien always liked trying to guess what she'd wear the next time he saw her.

He would never get it right, though.

The boy grinned at Lila foolishly. Oh how he had missed his best friend. She was a terror to be with, but at the same time a load of fun. In Damien's opinion, at least. Everyone had a different opinion of someone else, and it wasn't his position to judge. Damien turned his attention back to the dark strawberry blonde in front of him. "Done that cursed chem homework yet?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
but the one that's shining out so bright,
i s t h e o n e r i g h t w h e r e y o u a r e

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[lila fae jones]

Lila laughed when Damien jumped. As he turned around and took hold of her hands, she laughed even more. ”Here we go again...” she muttered under her breath, hiding a snort of laughter to literally burst from her mouth. "You're the only one in this entire world who calls me adorable, my beautiful girl." Lila chortled, snapping a hand from his to cover her mouth. The ‘charming’ attitude was so wrong for him; the adorable little brother personality, however, fitted him perfectly.

If Damien thought that he loved Lila as a sister, it was pretty much the same way around. Lila loved him like sister loved her brother, like a friend loved a friend, like a girl loved her stuffed animal. And Damien thought his thoughts were strange... Wait until he got a day inside of Lila’s head. A boy and his dog... a girl and her teddy bear. Damien did remind her of a teddy bear, now that she thought of it.

Lila chuckled when Damien grinned. She missed him, even if it had been only a day. She was about to grin foolishly back, when he ruined the moment with a short, frustrating question: "Done that cursed chem homework yet?" Lila groaned through gritted teeth, grabbing the sides of Damien’s shoulders and said, ”D, no!!! I don’t want to hear about homework. Gahhh. Anything but homework. Even one of your rants about general music history isn’t as bad.” Lila twitched, loosening her grip on Damien’s arms.

At that moment, her macchiato arrived as the barista slid it down the counter. Lila smiled at her and turned towards the area where she would grab her cinnamon sprinkles, and then she’d sit down and... wait a moment. ”D?” Lila said, her eyes widening and her jaws dropping ever so slightly. ”They ran out of cinnamon.” Lila’s eyes were huge now, her hands flailing around as she looked through the sugar, milk, vanilla packets and every single other seasoning or flavoring packet she could fine.

She was freaking out now, over a little thing like cinnamon. Lila pressed her hands to her cheeks as she had her panic attack. ”They ran out of cinnamon, D! They can’t do that! It’s... it’s, it’s...” Lila turned all the cups of seasonings upside down onto the counter as she filed through them, hoping and trying in vain to search for any last cinnamon packet. She didn’t drink her macchiato without cinnamon (”I’m NOT picky! I’m just specific. Detailed. Particular. But I’m NOT picky!” as Lila would say.)

”Damien,” Lila said seriously, her head facing the floor, her hair covering her face like a curtain, her hands resting on the edge of the counter. ”It’s the end of the world.” A few curious customers stared at her, but she didn’t care. They couldn’t run out of cinnamon, they couldn’t.

[damien anthony wyle]

i see the sparkle of a million flashlights,

a w o n d e r w a l l o f s t a r s ,
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Damien coughed and winced when she threw her hands onto his arms and held tightly —that girl was going to kill him someday. But still, he chuckled when she began to whine about homework. It made her look rather funny, actually, when she got frustrated over anything and sometimes everything. It was interesting to watch her expression go from complete and utter ecstasy to disgust and annoyance in a single form of two syllables: 'home', and, 'work'.

The barista called out Lila's order and slid her macchiato down the counter. Damien smirked as Lila thanked the barista and reached down to grab a cinnamon packet, only to find none. ”D?” Damien had to prevent himself from bursting out in laughter at her panic and troubled tone. At her next statement, Damien answered, "Huh. I guess they did." D watched, amused, as Lila's thin hands flailed around the counter for a packet of cinnamon.

The seventeen year old boy shook his head, pretending to be clueless. Damien watched her begin a full-on panic attack. ”They ran out of cinnamon, D! They can’t do that! It’s... it’s, it’s...” Then, Damien's eyes grew wide with shock and slight panic as Lila began messing up the entire counter (which was neat and well arranged, sadly), turning everything in and out as she frantically looked for a packet of cinnamon. "This girl is unbelievable," Damien thought, sipping his frappucino, still not telling her that he had one packet right in his pocket.

As people began to shoot them troubled, worried, irritated and slash or sympathetic glances, D thought this would finally be a good time to stop her. Especially when she began her whole 'it's the end of the world' testimony. Damien rolled his eyes. Lifting the packet from his pocket, Damien whistled at Lila to attract her attention, since she was facing the floor in such an emo position.

Casually, Damien stood beside his dark strawberry blond friend and nonchalantly lifted the packet over her head. "I'm only going to give this to you once you admit that you're picky, Li." His elbows rested on the counter as he toyed with the packet in his hands, tilting it from one side to another, feeling the cinnamon powder slide around inside like sand in an hour glass. He had set his frappucino beside him; the songs from his iPod —which he had carefully placed into his pocket after drawing the cinnamon packet out— still playing in his ears.

He turned his head to look at her and grinned a large, toothy, foolish grin. He wasn't leaning on the counter anymore; he was facing her. He held the packet higher up, right above his head and smiled in the most charming manner that he could. "Come on, Lila. We both know you're not going to touch that latte until you mix this," at that, he waved the packet around in the air, "inside of it." Damien grinned smugly in a way that made him look like an idiot, and took another sip of his own drink.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
but the one that's shining out so bright,
i s t h e o n e r i g h t w h e r e y o u a r e

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