mirthful optics danced as he gazes at him : light radiant in the red of his gaze . no words pass , but arms moved to wrap around his waist , delicate and firm , drawing him closer as fingertips idly traced patterns on the small of his back . nose grazes , slender and petite , over the curves of his neck , with lips following close behind its path . his chest , his heart – it blossoms and swells in the faint shimmer of his voice :
‘ i love you too , na-nagisa - kun . ’
( question : how does it feel when a person comes to like another person ? wanting to touch them . wanting to kiss them . not wanting to lose them . what does it feel like ? if he came to love you , how would that feel ? answer : it feels like now . )
holy boy , divinity and sin at war his graveyard chest / selfish boy , he never can , never will deny self of this gentle vice . he can’t help but exploit it , this warmth in moments of endearing affection : it’s transient , it’s fleeting , it’s everything in between .
he gives but a loving kiss to obsidian hair before cheek comes to rest upon the crown of his head .
‘ thank you – i’m glad i met you . ’
visible shiver trickles up his spine , nerves set ablaze , standing on end with hungry anticipation . this foreign affection , so hot to the touch : you are a wildfire / burn & engulf me in your brilliant sunset tinted hues . i wish to be nothing less than charred skin and bloodshot eyes . yes , i love you .
( you’ve taught me so much about myself ; how i need a love that hurts & heals at the same time , a love that leaves the lungs screaming for air , only to breathe a new life into me . )
burrowing himself further , deeper into this holy love , further against this ethereal boy that belongs to him and only him . if gluttony is his sin ( for this fervent craving was a bottomless pit , and he has no intent to starve himself of this touch ) then he will happily burn in hell . and it shall be prolonged , for he knows not how much longer he’ll be able to hold him in his arms , to feel porcelain skin ‘neath these sinful lips , to wallow within the stranger that is love .
( it’s a vicious pattern for people like me , who are not allowed to feel these things , not allowed to feel this comfort in someone’s arms , not allowed to feel needed by someone as good as you . )
still , it’s worth a prayer .
‘ p - promise me that you won’t be like them , nagisa - kun , promise me that you’ll stay . . . i don’t want to stop being loved . ‘ but it’s an inevitable demise .
annaxmalina
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
