Ella and Ryan.

The night had hindered the attractive eyes of Ella and the effect of this curious caprice was not of a nice view, then in the far, she seized Ryan as he stood onto the bridge. 

"What're you doing at the top?" The words flew from her mouth, now the darkness was trifling with the presence of him, she looked down then the thought of jumping attuned through her. 

"You made it," Ryan climbed down.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" The red marks blemish everywhere on Ryan's cheeks. 

"So should we go?" Ryan knew that his bruises could've erred. 

"How did you get those bruises?" 

"Ah it's nothing, don't worry about it," they stood against the door of a cafeteria, steadily there were lesser harrows to dwell now. They walked in then settled themselves. 

"So? Is it a date?" Asked Ella. 

"It could be, depends on ya," 

"So wanna hear a story?" 

"As usual for you, tell me." Ella shut her eyes then moved her eyes bustlely, wearisome bewildered out of her then the story roused from her. 

"So there was a man named Lucas." 

The cloud of the night Lucas moved to this apartment was throwing off the snow and it tumbled onto his shoulders. The sulkiness of the weather had made him wearisome but he wasn't about to disperse into the dreams, it was not the time for that. He sat still on his bed and surveyed his room, the lights were badly plowed but it was just dense obscurity. The quilt was effeminately small but depending on the imploringly amount of rent it was acceptable. He sat down as the dust lay in front of his eyes, his extravagance now limited him besides for the meals. The hum of the traffic was at its highest level of harassment and the small pulses of the tensed life stayed within him but with those hums of traffic, there's a loud whimper of a cheery music box started to rummage. He rose and easel his ears to the walls, the voices fell flat against his ears then trembled his prudence as he heard a soft hum of a girl with the song. Lucas removed himself then lay on the bed, the rest of the night passed merrily, in the morning he woke up and languidly he walked to the kitchen, then the eloquence of the same voice as of the last night turned alive, he went to his door then welcomed the shining bright light of the sun, then she ascended in front of him, walked passed him, he knew he couldn't separate her from his own sensation, he knew he'd found the girl he used to paint in that treehouse of his back in his village. He'd had seized her in his eyes for only a matter of seconds but had gathered all he needed to catch, her face hidden beneath the shadow of a hat, her eyes limpid, her brows sharped, her gorgeousness dwelled into the thin hallway, her hair so pale flaxen, drawn back over her ears beneath the hat, those little shining lights in her eyes that sparked everything, transform it's light to his blemishes existence. He'd decided to follow her, till her steps stopped he was behind her as far as he could still letting his eyes gather her amiably neck. She was on a bus stop, though it was trifling for him but her appearance and her voice attuned as gorgeously to his ears and his eyes. The bus stopped against her, then she picked up her pace and let the bus swallow her. Lucas lingered there, this moment of caprice wasn't enough for him to return to the apartment, he'd waited there, for her, the sun dusk down, and yet he didn't move, never even the thought of going back attended in his mind. When she returned with her inestimable gorgeously appearance it was already the silent road, he hid himself behind a wall and waited for her to pass on, and when she did, he could hear her quaint, childish cry, her perpetual tears smooched the dark ground, he stayed there looking at her, then dispersed in his thoughts. 

"Why is she crying?" The thoughts that were unruffled and intuitively began to follow her. The external wall that he made between her and him wasn't one he was ready to break but he knew the time would scream against his face soon enough, the apartment stayed in front, and he stared at her as she climbed the stairs then he proceeded to follow her, for him the tears it was an aversion to the slightest perfection of her sharpness and lightness that had hidden in her eyes. The balmy weather was long gone and the darkish clouds were hovering over his head, those days of him was still fresh in his eyes, when he used to linger in his small tree house, there used to be a panting that had remarked its own enlightenment into him, a man bent down to pick up a parasol lying on a chair, the long window that threw the winds at its finest pace, and the parasol flying away from him, he used to just sit and watch the painting and imagine the man running behind it, then motivate himself to sit beside a shrubbery and paint, every single day he poured the same girl again and again and used to seize her in his eyes, losing himself in his contemplated thoughts that even his Gramps couldn't comprehend, he'd had hard time to not let the Gramps indulge in the act of disturbance in his thoughts and his paintings, though he'd loved Gramps's hobby that we'll talk about the hobby later, so he'd kept staring at the painting until the err hum from that painting hazed away then he needed to make a new one, the remembrance of the old days was exasperating but still it had made him debilitate to smile, he climbed the stairs, following her, blemishing his feet in the exact spot where she attuned her feet, then turned to the narrow hallway, and there she was, stricken on the door and pouring her sstare on him. The beauty which underlines the mystery of this woman had reached the above of all rage and saddened mind, he felt the nervousness crawling through his body. 

"Why are you following me?!"