Mirror, Mirror

[dominic arden hartley]

``D O M I N I C
^{I'll move in close, try to make you smile
With charming lines, I'll steal your time for a while.}
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Is this the calling? He thought idly to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. He had been laying here on the dusty floor for what seemed like hours. But considering that his back wasn’t hurting, he doubted that it had been that long. He didn’t think that his body could really handle this hard wood floor for hours without aching. As if trying to test it out, Dom shifted his weight and rolled his shoulders, pushing his back up off the floor for a few seconds with the movement. There was no soreness so he was satisfied with the movement and thinking that he hadn’t been here for hours despite how long it felt like he had been laying here.

Dominic let his eyes close for a few moments as he drew in deep breaths. It was another one of those times where he had run out of ideas on things to do. And what did that mean to him? It meant that he would end up here sprawled out on the floor staring up at the ceiling. For people that knew him well enough it would never take them long to find out where he was. Generally he had his phone on though and he would answer their calls and texts eventually. Sometimes though his friends tended to panic about him and his whereabouts. Then he wasn’t too hard to find and the best friends he had could find him.

Dom opened his eyes slowly and the familiar black ceiling came into view. He pushed his hand up into his hair and pushed it back, letting it fall backwards instead of into his face like it normally was. He let his eyes trace the few lines of rope over head and then along the lines of lights that were up there. Sometimes he came in here during the plays that the school put on and he’d just sit up there on the catwalk. Of course, he stayed out of the way and helped when he could. Most of the time the people who worked things up there were happy to have him help out but other times they wanted him out of the way and then he’d loiter up there in a corner out of the way.

He sighed softly before he pushed himself up on his elbows. He let his blue orbs scan the stage and then the curtains that hung heavily at the edge of the stage. They blocked his view of the seats that filled the auditorium and he was almost glad about it. Dom had quite an overactive imagination and he knew that if he could see the seats he would picture them full. And then his vain side would kick in and he’d try to be the gorgeous perfectionist that he was, strutting his stuff like he was walking the catwalk. Models. They were a pain in the ass and Dom was probably one of the most vain of them on campus, making him that much worse.

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Tag ;; Wifey xD
Word Count ;; 505
Status ;; Finished
Music ;; Photos of You - Phone Calls From Home
Notes ;; Pft lol.

[izabella marie-claire james]

( SO I GUESS THIS IS WHERE WE HAVE TO STAND )


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did you ever regret holding my hand,

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Izabella got up, and stretched her legs, in her usual shorts, black, and a tee shirt, that clung tight, and was fitted to her form quite nicely. She had her hair in a ponytail, so it wouldn't curl up quite so much. But it still had waves running through out her long brown tresses. She yawned, did a few motions, along with a few yoga poses, and then walked over, and opened up her curtains. It was only six fifty five. She put on her dance shoes, and did a few points, stretching about her long figure, and spinning, quickly. She whipped her head around, looking, and focusing. But she never seemed to get tired of that. It just seemed, so natural ; so fluid. So easy to her. But her mother had been a dancer, too. So it was in her blood.
She sighed, and let herself slow, to a hault, and landed, perfectly, and silently on her feet. She had a bit of grace when she danced. But walking and such? Not so much. They said her walk was graceful, and pretty, but she could also...fall gracefully? If that were possible. But, then again, with Bella, almost anything was different.
She walked over to her wardrobe, and opened it up, searching for things. Bella's favourite colour, was indeed, black. Although, not in the, darkish, doom and gloomish way...Well, okay, at times. But she just preffered it over other...colours. She hated all these cutesy things that girls were wearing these days. Not that green wasn't bad. But she absolutely hated pink. Which, by the by, just happened to be what she'd first had to wear when enrolled into dance, at age three. Eww, she grimaced, at the thought, and rolled her eyes. Well, those days were over. And Bella wasn't going to be wearing pink anytime soon. She wore black on pretty much a daily basis, in some form. She shifted through her wardrobe, the top, and the drawers. She found a black pair of pants, and a green cami, and an over wrap. She slipped on her black converse, pulled the laces tight, and flipped them around, til they were tied. She always tied her shoes faster than she could watch. She wasn't sure how. She just did. It was involuntary.
She walked into her hall, and gracefully twirled, then hoisted herself onto the banner, and slid down it. She walked into the kitchen, empty, as usual. Her dad was probably at work. And the nanny still asleep, because she didn't have to get up and get Bella off to school anymore.
Bella grabbed an apple off the counter, and a bottle of dasini water out of the fridege.
She grabbed her keys, and headed to her dorm, across town. She really, should just stay there. But she liked waking up in her room. Maybe she was just...weird that way?

She drove to school, still munching on her apple, and drinking her water, taking sips at the stop signs, and stop lights. And by the time she'd made it to school, she was done. Her hair was tied up, in a ponytail, high ontop of her head, her bangs hanging in her eyes, slightly, as usual. She had very little make up on. Thin line of liner, and a dash of carmex lipbalm.
Bella parked her car, and got out, throwing the core of the apple into a trash bin, as she passed. She walked past her dorm, and kept on going, running, trying to get a rush. She loved to run. But it just wasn't the same as her dancing. When she danced, she was an entirely different person completely. She picked up speed, and did a cartwheel, accompanied by another, and completed with a roundoff. She laughed, as she stood back up, feeling a sudden woosh, from that. She looked around, wondering what people were thinking. She shook her head. There was no one around. It was still early yet.
She walked, and walked, til she came upon the auditorium, where she often practiced her routines. Or just plain practiced.
She swung open the doors, and looked inside. Peering in, she noticed a boy, that looked about her age, lying there on the stage. He was propped up on his elbows. His skin, from where she was standing, appeared ivory, and quite pretty, and she couldn't tell yet, but he seemed like he would be. Ughh, Bella, now, don't you start! She screamed at herself. She was always looking at boys. Whether she really liked them or not, she still loved to observe them.
She walked towards the stage, and then stopped, beside him.
"Sorry, I didn't know..." she started, and then paused, "That anyone would be up, little on, in here." she said, nodding her chin in the auditoriums general direction, well, the stage's behind him. "Am I...disturbing something?" she asked, looking around to see if they were the only ones about.
She, dually noted that she'd been right. His eyes were gorgeous, as was his face. She inhaled audibly, as he turned them on her. Bella's were simply brown. Sometimes green specks floated here and there, accompanied with honey, but otherwise, hers were quite plain. She hated them because of that. Not that they weren't also abonormally large-ish. She couldn't seem to make herself look away from his though. They were so bright. And his face was so gorgeous. He had to be an actor, or model, or something of that sort. She had been asked if she were to enroll in modelling, and her father had encouraged it, as did her aunt, and such, but she'd refused. Her love was in the arts, such as dancing. Not that she didn't love photography, either. It'd been a tough decision. On what terms to enter murphy upon. But she'd went with her heart on this decision. And, somewhat her mind. She just didn't know if she could put her heart and soul into another major, and be totally happy with the outcome.
Dancing , to her, was like a drug. When she wasn't, she wanted to be.


* notes,(sorry it took so dmn long ; outfit.)
* word count, (one oh two five).
* tags, (husband).
* credit, makeascenehanna @ caution 2.0 & (demi lovato, dont forget).