[sk1fpt8]

He's got the fire and he walks with it

[cakebutnoflour]

i’m yours forever <3

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

I would give anything to see this in better quality and more

[sk1fpt8]

eight years later, it dawned on me why Dylan drew these exact hearts

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

[199904-20]

i need him to shout at me ౨ৎ ♪

[sk1fpt8]

my small collection

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

[sk1fpt8]

we can be heroes, just for one day

20/04

[sk1fpt8]

Happy birthday, dear boy!

45 is a number that was meant to belong to you. But instead, you are still 18, held in a moment that never moved forward.

The world kept turning, seasons changing, people growing, yet you stayed exactly where time let go of you. There’s something unbearably quiet about that - like a story that stopped mid-sentence, like a life that was never allowed to finish speaking.

And maybe that's why it still feels so unreal as if you aren’t gone, just paused, just waiting in a place where the years can't touch you.

Forever 18...

[sk1fpt8]