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♡♦♡ A SONG THAT CAME FROM THE HEART BUT HOLDS NO NAME ♡♦♡
Loud, girlish laughter can be heard from from the woods as Harley Quinn and Rosalie Hale emerge from the thick trees, the Cullen residence their destination. The two of them are leading the battered up motorcycle towards the house as it's exhaust releases a thick, black smoke, their gorgeous silky, blonde hair wrapped wildly around their necks and chests.
If you haven't guessed it, Harley has done some serious damage to her new bike. Just as things were looking up, they ran into a little problem. Because she was going extremely fast for a long period of time, she accidentally burned the engine oil, which then lead to a copious amount of black smoke. They had to drag the bike from the street, to the woods and to the Cullen's house.
"Hey, Rose," Harley laughs maniacally. "What's big an' hard an' used to rev up a Harley?"
Laughing, Rosalie throws her helmet at her, which she easily catches with her other hand. "Ew, Harley! You're worse than Emmett!"
"Trust me. No one's worse-r than Emmett," she snorts, holding onto the bike with one hand and the two helmets in another.
The immortal blond shakes her head and continues to laugh as Harley and her carefully set down the motorcycle into the ground. They link arms, laughing and making jokes as they make their way towards the front door and into the dead quiet house.
"It looks like only Edward's home," Rosalie hums to herself after catching her brother's scent, though there's no sight of him, except for his car parked up front. "Alright. Come on!" She takes Harley's pale hand and leads her to her bedroom upstairs, all while the human girl looks around at the amazing decor pieces.
This home never seizes to amaze her.. The door to Emmett and Rosalie's bedroom clicks open. Rosalie flickers the light on, and they enter inside.
Harleen looks around the room, expecting a massive room with blood-red walls, holding onto chained cuffs and a giant king-sized bed for the couple's nightly activities. But no.. It's a simple room with a bed, a full-length mirror, a small closet tucked into a corner and a white vanity. It has to be one of the smallest rooms in the house compared to all the others. It's the size of a bathroom. In fact, she's almost positive it was once an upstairs powder room. It's small and quiet, tucked away in the back of the house. The long, stretched hallway seemed to go on forever just to get to the door.
A set of icy cold hands are placed onto her shoulders, gently sinking her down onto the small vanity chair. The pair of hands are linked to Rosalie's angelic voice. "Now, wait here, and I'll be back."
