ALTHOUGH IT'S ALWAYS CROWDED, YOU STILL CAN FIND ROOM FOR BROKEN HEARTED LOVERS.
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_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
"Can I have you?"
Austin plays with my hair. He doesn't smile, doesn't talk... doesn't let me breathe. His fingers comb through the ends of my hair, which in this moment feel like strands of woven silk fabric. Perhaps he likes it.
Though that doesn't hold me back from shivering under the weight of his body. It gives me peace, in some way or the other, but it also kills me.
Austin doesn't have me, like he asked. He's almost too scared to touch me, too scared to even look at me... or maybe that's just the alcohol sitting heavy on his eyelids. They close and open slowly.
"Austin." I manage to breathe. I sound breathless. I am breathless. Austin scares me. Even the butterlies in my stomach are trying to find a way out. How can one be so perfect, so close, yet I'm afraid to touch and feel?
He hums in a question, letting me take my time before I force another word out from between my trembling lips. Sometimes I think I might've made him up, but then again, is my brain even capable of hallucinating the perfect human to exist? Maybe I'm too obsessed.
"I'm-" I whisper, but the rest refuses to leave my mouth. Words hold tightly on to my wisdom teeth, gripping at the bones and staying stuck in my throat.
When Austin's eyes close for the last time, his head falls and his lips nestle warmly in the crook of my neck. He breathes against my skin, and I start burning again.
"A-Austin?"
No answer. I feel very stupid for even assuming he knows what he's doing. He's drunk. He'll always be drunk when he calls me up to his room. What was I thinking? He'll never want me when he's sober.
Sober Austin knows what he wants. He's serious, he's rich, he's a heartthrob, one that knows himself.
