Donnie scoffs as he enters his bedroom- actually scoffed instead of saying the word like he normally does. There was something about you, something he couldn't rid his mind of. How your hair swayed when you turned and it stayed stuck in his brain after he got whiplashed with the scent of your shampoo.

He grabs a journal, grumbling under his breath as he flops onto his bed, thinking of your face. Your stupid, stupid-

I really like their stupid face. Is what he wrote into his diary.