Trust
You follow him home.
You eat his food.
You drink his water, his wine.
You swim in his pool, walk in his garden.
You look at his books, scattered all over the place, and wonder...such a mansion, and just one man.
You wait to hear his steps, at night, and only then you can close your eyes and sleep.
And then you dream of him.
You pass ten hundred times in front of the locked door to his studio. Sometimes you go with barefeet, so he won't know you're there. Sometimes you make noise, on purpose, slam a door, drop one of those books, so he might open the door, and let you in.
Because that's what it is. Knowing that you will break, and push, and knock, and once let in, you will keep breaking, and pushing, and knocking, trying to get out. But you trust him not to let you go. You trust him to keep you. Because you want to stay, and you want him, and you trust him with your damn stubborn, contrary self.
178 words
muse: Ranuccio
fandom: Caravaggio (misc films)
You eat his food.
You drink his water, his wine.
You swim in his pool, walk in his garden.
You look at his books, scattered all over the place, and wonder...such a mansion, and just one man.
You wait to hear his steps, at night, and only then you can close your eyes and sleep.
And then you dream of him.
You pass ten hundred times in front of the locked door to his studio. Sometimes you go with barefeet, so he won't know you're there. Sometimes you make noise, on purpose, slam a door, drop one of those books, so he might open the door, and let you in.
Because that's what it is. Knowing that you will break, and push, and knock, and once let in, you will keep breaking, and pushing, and knocking, trying to get out. But you trust him not to let you go. You trust him to keep you. Because you want to stay, and you want him, and you trust him with your damn stubborn, contrary self.
178 words
muse: Ranuccio
fandom: Caravaggio (misc films)