seraphic [h.s]

chapter fifty three.

Toploader- Dancing in the Moonlight.
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His chipped black nail polish matched mine. His helix piercing matched mine, the same titanium loop. And his strands of golden hair matched a few of mine also. Eli. Artwork in human form.

My hands clasped around his neck as he talked about the last gallery he'd gone to. I had been listening, I was interested, as I sat perched upon his lap with my legs dangling over the side of his thighs. But somewhere amongst the rundown of his favourite piece, I had gotten lost in world of my head.

I couldn't stop noticing how beautiful he was, how his sun-kissed hair fell in all kinds of directions yet always seemed unified. As I brushed a strand of fallen hair from his forehead, I imagined that he had been created from nothing but the art he spoke about. I imagined the making of his form, born from pages of drawings, as if they had risen from their place on paper and gravitated towards his bare skin like a life raft. Like they had enveloped him in an embrace, arms open wide.

His strong jaw turned my way and his eyes flickered to my lips, "Zoned out again?" He asked as he usually did when I became too quiet during his stories. I gave him a look, "No," I drew the word out like he was absurd, "You always just get me thinking, you know your words take me places. I heard you though." Eli's softly sculpted lips turned upwards as he tightened his hold on my waist.

"Oh yeah?" He was really smiling now, "And what was I saying?"

My nails ran up the nape of his neck gently, smoothing into his hair. Surprisingly, I had heard what he had been saying. His voice had played amongst my running thoughts, like it was the soundtrack to my elaborate imagining of Eli being made purely from drawings. Crazy, I know. But awfully nice to think about.

"You were saying how you'd much rather analyse the thought process behind the artwork, instead of looking at the artwork itself. That you're more interested in knowing why the artist chose every single detail that they did, instead of anything else."

Eli looked rather impressed, his thighs tensing beneath me as he manoeuvred them slightly. "Don't mind me then, of course you were listening." He laughed, pressing a kiss to my cheek closest to him. My legs that were coated in dark denim, draped over Eli comfortably, fishnet tights peeking through the rips of my jeans. Eli's tattooed finger played with a thread near one of the rips, his hand resting over my cold skin, another reminder of his warmth.

I lay my head down onto his shoulder, feeling his cheek press onto the side of my temple in comfort for a second before retreating it. "We should go, to the gallery, if you'd like that as well? Sometimes they have these nights where it's more of a party scene, it's pretty cool actually. But nothing crazy." Eli shyly spoke.

"Sounds pretty great to me." A voice that was definitely not mine, said.

Eli and I both turned towards the entrance of the shop, a guilty looking Dee standing behind an awkward looking Harry. As subtly as I could, I furrowed my brows at Dee to ask 'what the fuck?', to which she then motioned towards the door, then back to herself, then over to us, her hands gesturing in all sorts of directions as she mouthed an 'I'm so sorry'.

I had finished my last client of the day only fifteen minutes prior to me taking residence on Eli's lap. It was Friday night, I knew Harry would be coming at some stage, and I had planned on waiting eagerly until he had arrived. Now he was here, right here.