Tabcas, love me
He had always done that , and you hald always hate it. Sleep was precious, you've muttered, eyes fogged; still into that torpor, never ending haze you so cherrished, where dreams and reality couldn't be set apart. You are just a girl when you're asleep, ghosts don't haunt you there.
But he always does that, always. You hate it.
(But you don't actually. You could never hate him, in any form or shape. You could not ever demonize your savior, you could not ever stain his figure. He is your beacon, he is your safety. You cling to him. Save me, save me, save me.)
The 'smack' right into your ear, and you quickly sit. I was not asleep, you mutter, the back of your hand trying to fix the leaking coming from your mouth; the essay you've been tortuously working on, ruined. You won't look at him -- becuase he had kissed you, right into your ear again and because you haven't listened to him and typed your progress right away, again.
You could see -- yes, see; every expression of his face was memorized, every inch of his body, burned agains your, tattooed, and thank god those never fade away -- even face down on your papers, the little smug, timid bloated smirk. He is the worst.
"What did you say?"
But you know well how much he hates this -- when you mutter disconnnected words, senseless sentences. He hates to repeat himself, and you make him do it; what did you say, what did you say, what did you say -- over and over again.
So it reaches to a point that his voice had grown slightly annoyed, and you haven't moved from your spot -- face burried into your books, just saying stupid words like peacock or booby trap. "Come closer." He finally manages to hear -- more like you finally managed to say, secretly triumphant.
And he does come closer -- only later you'll notice how he manages, in one way or another, after a couple more annoyed huffles than the usual, do whatever you aks him to. And it's incredible how his presence rules you like an orchestra, how his mere touch is capable of crumbling down ever perfectly built wall you've pulled up. He rules your body, mind and heart -- and you will never admit it.
His breath is hot against your neck and you hear once again he asking you what have you said -- you could simply laugh, and repeat it all; or simply stick your tongue out and bite his nose, but instead, your lips meet his in a loud and quick kiss. Before you could even welcome the dormency, the comfort you only find in your dreams, you pull away. Stop kissing into my ear, you whisper, and smile.
You dreamed about his lips against yours, that night.