Hand in hand I walked down the hallway with him. Everyone stared. Everyone gawked. Everyone was in complete disbelief. Hell, I could barely believe it myself
I was in love with him; and that's all that could ever matter now.
He was my Romeo, and I, his Juliet. Two completely different people, who's families (our social groups) hated one another. But would we die for each other?
Yes. But not that day, or the next day, but lying in bed beside each other, old and withered...together forever.
We walked down the hallway, everyone watched us. The hall was completely silent. Even the teachers were in shock. My friends shook their heads, the girls I had dated previously, stared at her in envy, and with the looks of killers. We may have been two, unalike teens, having no fucking idea what we were doing, but we sure as hell knew what we were doing in those few moments.
Showing the fucking world that differences don't always matter. And that we didn't give a shit what they said about us. I loved her, and she loved me. Wasn't that enough?
"Fuck those assholes," I whispered in her ear.
Her grip on my hand tightened as to say she was in agreement.
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