Butterflies
It squirms, it wriggles and writhes in your chest. Almost painful, almost as painful as bringing yourself to knock on the door. Your eyes hit the concrete and air feels hard, just pumping it in and out of your lungs. Still, its what you want to do right? See him. He is probably beautiful right now. With those beautiful eyes and that smile that stops your breathing altogether. Seeing it alone probably would make it more painful to breathe than it does now. So why do you keep at this? Why do you let this wriggling in your chest guide you? It makes you want to scream. Which says something. You aren't a loud man, but here you are dying to be bathed in his colors and shout it to the world to just have his eyes flash it to you. Your one hand tightens on the bouquet of flowers and the other taps finally. Finally. On the door. How could you live another moment without sharing the same air as him?
"You look fantastic...Oh! I brought you these!"
@thestarlightbrigade