The Pheonix The PhoenixThe Pheonix by ~nessarosa
He is waiting. Sitting on the eyesore hospital chair with the burgundy background and gray rectangles on the fabric that clings to the dull, scratched up chrome frame, Alexander is waiting to die. His auburn hair caresses his back as it cascades down his shoulders, flipping up almost effortlessly at the ends, the way every girl wishes hers would. As he pushes it out of the way of his dazzling emerald eyes, it lightly touches his brown, yellow, and blue plaid flannel shirt, which carries his distinctive smell: honey and hay in a sultry blend. He stretches out his long legs, his kneecaps disappearing like whales under the sea of hi
it's greatly appreciated. 
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