Fallen Angels (UNEDITED)

XV

When I look into your eyes
I see all my dreams come true
~ Firehouse, When I Look Into Your Eyes

"How was the quickie?" Lucas's voice startles me as I review the photos Liam took at the concert, deciding which ones to pick. It's a tedious task as many of the photos are crap, but nothing a little photoshop can't fix.

Lucas sits across from me at the kitchen table, strumming his guitar while jotting down notes in an old worn out notebook. He wanted to stay up and work, like I wanted to.

"I don't even want to talk about it." Erik grunts as he closes the door and takes a seat on the couch behind the table, right behind me.

"Was it that bad?" I turn my neck, waiting for a response to Lucas's question. Erik rolls his eyes at Lucas and doesn't say anything.

Instead, he takes a look at the work I'm currently doing; editing a photo of him singing.

"I'm gonna text Olivia that you are back and we can head out." Lucas stands up and wishes me a good night before heading to the bunks. Erik and I sit in silence, him watching me sort through photos.

"I'm so done with this." I shut the Mac closed as I sort through at least twenty more photos of the same horrible quality. I rub my eyes in frustration but freeze when I feel a tight squeeze on my shoulder.

I turn my body so I'm facing Erik, "there's nothing you can do about the shitty photos Liam took, so just stop. Go to bed."

"I'm not tired." I sigh as Erik stretches out on the couch, but his massive size doesn't allow for him to fully stretch out so he is bent awkwardly.

"Then do something for yourself, I never see you reading or watching TV. You are always helping us and marketing us. Like yesterday after the trip to the Statue of Liberty, you started working on promoting the show in Philly." I turn my head away from Erik as I can feel the embarrassment creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. It's true, ever since I've started, I've taken all the free time I've gotten to work on promoting the band and nothing else.

It's been months since I wrote any poetry down.

"But I want to get you guys to the Warp tour." I can hear Erik sigh and he sits up to look at me, but before he can say anything to me the bus is lurching forward.

"Tonight, we don't worry about that, we do something that is your passion." Erik has this determined look on his face and I can't help but tell him what my passion is. A passion so many people don't know about, even Marcus doesn't and I tell him everything.

"I like writing poetry," I whisper, but I know Erik heard it. He sits up straight and pats the cushion beside him. I leave to grab the untouched notebook I have stored under the mattress of my bunk.

I take the seat beside Erik and tuck my legs under my body, but I'm pulled into Erik's chest so my back is pressed against him. He gently takes the brown leather notebook from me and opens it up so that both of us can read it.

"I haven't written in this months." I watch as he turns the pages of my messy writing, scribbles on lines forming words.

"These are so full of pain." I can't see him, but I can hear the sadness in his voice. I shift uncomfortably as he continues to read work no one has ever seen.

"Are you cold, Ray?" His voice changes and I can almost catch the slight British accent that has been replaced with years of being in America.

I don't admit that I'm moving out of discomfort as there is something in me that wants him to read my work, wants me to open up to him. So, I nod my head yes. Erik removes the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes the two of us in it.

"You are very talented." I feel his hot breath fan across the back of my head, sending goosebumps to my neck.

"Thank you," I whisper back to him. He intertwines our legs and moves so that we are more laying down than sitting up.

"Write me something." He whispers and I turn my head to see if he is serious, our lips are inches apart and one move would close that distance. His eyes are sparkling from the lights of vehicles passing us on the freeway.

"Okay," I take one last look at him before taking the pen from the notebook.

Unlike the other times I've tried to write anything, I'm able to and the words spill out of me like a hose with a leak. It doesn't take long before I have a page full of words.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" I whisper to him, I feel like if we speak, we will ruin this blissful moment we are wrapped in. Forgetting everything and everyone, just blended together with no other colours on the pallet.

He must feel the same way as he whispers back to me. Maybe we don't need to speak, maybe whispers like the wind can carry everything we need. Maybe we can just stay in this moment as long as we whisper, I would whisper for a thousand years if it meant one more second here.

"in the end, she became more than she expected. She became the journeys, she did not end, she just simply changed directions and kept going."

We sit in silence, not saying anything. I fear the silence as it means the end of our moment, the silence means we will be returning to a pallet of colours, not just ours. We will return to not even an hour before, when Erik was having a quickie a girl in the bathroom of the bar he performed at and I don't want to return to that.

I want the whispers.

I begin to get antsy as he doesn't say anything, he must have noticed as he tightens his arms around me and kisses the top of my head, "that was beautiful. I hope one day you write like that about me."

A blush creeps onto my cheeks, but I'm unable to bury my face into his chest as his two fingers tilt my chin up so I'm forced to stare into his memorizing eyes.

Like before, our lips are inches apart, and any movement would cause them to ignite. Would it be like fire and gasoline if we kissed?

"You're perfect, Ray."

I'm woken by a flash the next morning, and four faces staring at me in shock. I try to get away, but I'm trapped in two heavily tattooed arms. The events of last night come rushing back and how he told me I'm perfect as I finally broke my writer's block, and then told me to stay when I tried to leave.

I try to pry Erik's arms off of me, but he tightens them even more and buries his face in my neck where I can feel him plant a soft kiss.

I can only hope the rest of them can't see him.

"Seems Erik can sleep with girls."

Poem by R.M. Drake

Edited by GirlReader133