"You and I, we'll be young forever."

DC: Kon wins this time
by *kitten-chan @DA

I knew you got me when you let your walls come down, down

Before you met me, I was a wreck
But things were kinda heavy
You brought me to life
Now every February
You'll be my valentine, valentine

Let's just talk all through the night
There's no need to rush
We can dance until we die
You and I
We'll be young forever

Teenage Dream - Katy Perry (Boyce Avenue piano acoustic cover)

To be honest, sometimes, I think young love is so sweet.

The flirting, the shyness, the play coy and playful chase.

The adventure of finding perfect love.

It's just, sometimes, I wish I didn't have such a sweet tooth. I want to eat at that love and rip it piece by piece, because young love is so easy to break.

Like that sweet candy piece you drop, and shatters.

It feels so real at one moment. So sweet. So good. What could take this away from you?

Apparently, everything and nothing.

I'm not saying I did this on purpose. I'm not saying I told you all those things on purpose.

I just made you see it.

And I know, I say I won't touch that. I say I won't, because then what's the point? How real is it then? Although, when I'm not involved, a dream gets caught up in the web between that state of sleep and consciousness. The realm of freedom and fantasy, and the realm of reality and restrictions.

And on either side is me and her. I think it's pretty obvious which side I'm on.

When I put a restriction on how involved I'm going to get, reality stops touching you.

When she has free roam over your thoughts and consciousness, fantasy chains you.

And I know I say it's the right thing for me to let you figure it out on your own. There are limits, however, to my patience. I care enough to be patient with this kind of thing. I guess it needs to grow, take a head of it's own before I judge. Although, usually, I nick and pick at the root right from the beginning, because you'll only end up in a world of trouble. I didn't touch this one though. Thought it would be interesting enough to let it begin to bloom before I cracked it open.

The colour was ugly though, and it grew in an odd shape, so it's obvious what I did then.

Although, what one man calls trash, another calls treasure. Or something like that.

It's obvious we weren't seeing the same thing.

It's ironic though. I'm supposed to be the one protecting you. She's supposed to be the one helping you. I'm the one supposed to be pressuring you. She's the one supposed to free you.

Although, just as easily, we slipped into reverse roles, and I ended up helping this "young love" take on it's own edge and direction and letting the bud open and show its colours. While she pressured it and protected it until it twisted and gnarled and became this ugly thing. Then, just as easily, we went back and I nipped it and she dug out the dirt.

We have so much in common.

You're not afraid to grow up. So I'll show you reality and its restrictions and its responsibilities. I'll follow you into that realm.

Your superhero will be the one to free you.
Not your fantasy or your reality.

海