You.
Title: You.
Author: sixtieshairdo
Rating: I'd say PG-13 but I think 12 year olds can read this without any rousing pleasures haunting them to bed.
Summary: Glimpses inside Luke's and Reid's heads.
You have almost-red hair.
I realize this as I lead Noah out of the hospital, his elbow slipping from my grip.
I hear him sigh in frustration at me but for once, I ignore him.
My mind’s preoccupied with the
incoherent shade
of you.
…
You pout when you write.
I notice this unnecessary fact
though I try not to. The angle of
your fountain pen tips almost
precariously at approximately
40 degrees before
- yes I knew it would happen -
it falls away from your fingers.
When you look up at my shadow,
I spill my coffee.
Everyday, Mr. Snyder,
a new hell.
…
You are slightly shorter than me.
Noah has asked me to describe you and I am surprised to learn
- by careful observation - that you are in fact not taller than me. All this time, I have associated you with stature.
Yet, I still feel like I have to crane my neck to look at you.
You and your almost-red hair.
…
You have dimples the size of the moon.
I am exaggerating. But yes,
your smile feels like a punch
in my gut that forces the
reciprocal upturn of my mouth.
You’re making it hard for me to sleep.
…
You haunt my nights.
In my dreams, you leave teeth marks on my chest.
Your fingers and hips, your whispers and lips, make me babble poetry like blasphemous songs.
You unravel my knots and unhinge my locks.
I come undone.
…
You are beautiful when broken.
I should not say this but it
is true. There’s something about
the vulnerability in your eyes
that makes me want to encase
your self in an indestructible
bottle so you don’t have to hurt
ever again.
When our lips touch,
I burn so hard
I break.
…
You play with my body like a Robin Thicke song.
And as hard as it is to believe, we
haven’t even had sex
yet.
…
You snore in bed.
I must be in love
because I find that
endearing.
…
You have strong arms.
When Noah lashes at me and
calls me soul-searing names,
I feel as though my flesh would
dissolve off my bones.
But you hold me together,
until the sobs cease,
and the ringing numbness
fades.
…
You have almost-blonde hair.
It curls in between my fingers as I comb a hand through your scalp.
You purr and I feel a rush of blood course through me.
…
Oh yeah?
…
Yeah.
Author: sixtieshairdo
Rating: I'd say PG-13 but I think 12 year olds can read this without any rousing pleasures haunting them to bed.
Summary: Glimpses inside Luke's and Reid's heads.
You have almost-red hair.
I realize this as I lead Noah out of the hospital, his elbow slipping from my grip.
I hear him sigh in frustration at me but for once, I ignore him.
My mind’s preoccupied with the
incoherent shade
of you.
…
You pout when you write.
I notice this unnecessary fact
though I try not to. The angle of
your fountain pen tips almost
precariously at approximately
40 degrees before
- yes I knew it would happen -
it falls away from your fingers.
When you look up at my shadow,
I spill my coffee.
Everyday, Mr. Snyder,
a new hell.
…
You are slightly shorter than me.
Noah has asked me to describe you and I am surprised to learn
- by careful observation - that you are in fact not taller than me. All this time, I have associated you with stature.
Yet, I still feel like I have to crane my neck to look at you.
You and your almost-red hair.
…
You have dimples the size of the moon.
I am exaggerating. But yes,
your smile feels like a punch
in my gut that forces the
reciprocal upturn of my mouth.
You’re making it hard for me to sleep.
…
You haunt my nights.
In my dreams, you leave teeth marks on my chest.
Your fingers and hips, your whispers and lips, make me babble poetry like blasphemous songs.
You unravel my knots and unhinge my locks.
I come undone.
…
You are beautiful when broken.
I should not say this but it
is true. There’s something about
the vulnerability in your eyes
that makes me want to encase
your self in an indestructible
bottle so you don’t have to hurt
ever again.
When our lips touch,
I burn so hard
I break.
…
You play with my body like a Robin Thicke song.
And as hard as it is to believe, we
haven’t even had sex
yet.
…
You snore in bed.
I must be in love
because I find that
endearing.
…
You have strong arms.
When Noah lashes at me and
calls me soul-searing names,
I feel as though my flesh would
dissolve off my bones.
But you hold me together,
until the sobs cease,
and the ringing numbness
fades.
…
You have almost-blonde hair.
It curls in between my fingers as I comb a hand through your scalp.
You purr and I feel a rush of blood course through me.
…
Oh yeah?
…
Yeah.