sextape, jean kirstein

𝟎𝟓, 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

❝ In a fake world, I say your name when I'm praying. you, my angel and saint ❞

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓,

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 !

[ 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗷𝘂𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗰𝗶𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝘀 ]

You were still in bed from an hour long nap, and it was around sven-ten pm. Exhausted from a long night of paperwork and conference calls with some crew members. Following a long call with Sasha, drinking and streaming movies.

And the worst part was, you had to catch a one-way flight to Germany in three days, which you haven't even begun to pack for yet. Which you definitely should have.

This was when you finally decided to get up and do something other than sleep the rest of your hangover away.

And that started with a fourty five minute long bath. 

You make your way to the bathroom, and turning on the faucet to the temperature of your desire, and stripping out of your clothes before dimming the lights and getting in the tub. The view from the side of the tub, which was against a large glass window looked out above the city. 

Times Square was bustling with people bwlow you, car horns beeping and lights flashing. You loved it here, and never planned to leave. 

Stars reflected off of the glass as you sink down into the water, not even daring to let your hair hit the water. You sigh, pulling the bubbles closer to your chest. 

You had your own playlist of music to keep you company, and everything was at peace. Everything in the room stood still. Everything was perfect and exactly how you wanted it to be in an environment like this. And all you had to do for the rest of those fourty five minutes, were sit back and relax. 

─ Time had moved slow as you were enjoying yourself, only just hitting eight-fifteen when you finally got out, ending the sweet ambience of the water and the city.

As soon as you sat your phone down on your dresser, and walked to the closet, it began to vibrate, creating a loud humming disrupting the stillness of the room. You step backwards and out of the walk-in and over to your phone.

The caller ID read 'California Boy', which you had changed over the few months since you had left California. 

𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗔, 𝗝𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗦 𝗔𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 ──

"Sit," Jean says, patting on the seat next to his.

You were both currently out on the balcony of his apartment, looking out onto Los Angeles with wine glasses set on the table between the two chairs. Two cigarette buds had already been disregarded in the ash tray from previous nights, and unkowingly to you at the moment, two more would be added.