pretty chapped lips : malum :

0.2

I thought I had dreamed him, honest I had. I told my father the next day about the vision of a boy I saw across the way. I tried to tell my father how he stepped out before the head lights like there was nothing in his way, how his eyes were closed and he looked so at peace. But he rolled his eyes and stared at me hard, he told me to get my head out from those clouds. I swear I tried, I told myself I never saw the boy. I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination, that I never saw him at all as I walked past the dented lamppost and skid marks that screamed at me how real he was.

When I saw him again, he stood in the very same place at three thirty am. I sat with my legs crossed, long sleeves curled around my unfortunate arms as I watched the quiet road like every night. I swore, once again, I promise I heard it whisper to me to come near. I don't know how I refused it as it sang in my ear, gentle touches to my skin as it tempted me, whispering to to me to 'just come near'.

I saw him again, like a vision in white yet his tanned skin was clad only in black. The jeans he wore clung to his fragile frame and the shirt that cut off at his arms hung a little to loose, flowing in the cold nights wind. I watched him, afraid to look away, afraid to even blink encase he may disappear again, vanishing from my vision like sand through my fingers. I watched as he moved like a ghost, as if his feet did not even grace the ground as he moved towards the centre of the road once again.

I watched him as he waited. I watched him as he stood. I watched him with his face upturned to the sky, but eyes closed, not daring to stare up into the star filled night.

Seconds slipped by as minutes began to collect, but my eyes never left him. He was like a ghost, standing with his face upturned to the moons light. Drastic shadows clung to his features, cheekbones so sharp I was tempted to reach out, to run my fingers along them to see the little red lines that would be left in their wake. His body seemed to sway with every breath, though his lips turned up in a smile as his hands seemed to raise, fingers splayed as his arms rose to the air, like a bird in flight. It felt etherealandunreal, how he seemed to be flying yet not moving, burning through time but stuck in it like it were glue.

And there he stood, and I didn't dare look away.

But then his arms dropped, and his hands dug into dark pockets while the smile fell from his chapped lips as easily as a feather fluttering through the air at the slightest nudge of the wind. His eyes fluttered open, lips parted as he looked away from the moons light to the dark road around him and everything suddenly felt coldandlonely. Then, once again, I thought I heard him speak. But he turned his back to me where I sat on the cold front steps, and for a moment: I looked away.

Then, he was gone, like a ghost sinking into the stone.

"Maybe not tonight."

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A/N I hope you enjoyed, comment and vote maybe? Or not that's okay until next time, lovely.

-rachel x