i never really understood those descriptions in books of boys with perfect ruffled hair and electric eyes but i took one look at you and, well, your eyes are thunderstorms, darling, and i’m always waiting, breath baited, for them to break; you smelled like smoke and lightning, thick and acrid with that sharp undercurrent of energy--
i used to hate the smell of cigarettes, but now i inhale deeply.
Thunderstorm Boys // A.V.E













