Love (Bxb And Gxg)

Honey (bxb)

Honey is sticky, sweet, and sickening. It can make you feel better, then make your stomach ache as a big rock dropped in it. I hate honey. It gets everywhere and ants get to it like it's their life force.

That's what I thought until I met him. The person who radiates yellow and orange like he's the sun itself. But it's not burning, it's warm and inviting. Welcoming you like summer a breeze. I've always thought of yellow and orange to be heat and burns, like the middle of a fire on a sweltering hot day. Or when houses burn down like an inferno of rage and orange, red, and yellow. But this particular yellow-honey aura that was coming off this boy was innocent. Like he would never hurt a fly, and if he did, he would cry a sea of salty sweet tears.

And somehow, this person cracked my walls. My barriers, that I've used to protect myself from everyone and everything, and made them crumble to the ground as if they were dust. He took my dull, colorless life, and filled it with hues of yellow, orange, and red.

He made my heart swell as I've never experienced before. The boy, I believed, could do anything he wanted. And I would let him. If he wanted to rule the world and make every street on the road yellow and orange, I wouldn't mind. In fact, I would help him. He is like my queen bee, or king I should say.

His pretty blonde hair like a sea of curls on his head. His hazel eyes that would seem to fit the description of honey perfectly. His pale skin that seemed like if he stood in the sun too long, he would burn to a crisp, despite being the sun himself.

The only thing that saddened me, and I mean saddened me that my heart hurt every day thinking about it, was that he got picked on and bullied, all for being albino.

He would get bruises that were an ugly shade of blue and purple on his arms and legs. I no longer liked blue and purple like I once did. Now it was yellow. I want to make his heart happy again. I want to help him.

I've been doing it secretly for months now. Keeping the bullies away as much as I can, or when it gets too hot, I'll bring an umbrella for him to use. I've never actually talked to him of course, I would probably self destruct right then and there. He was beautiful. Even if he falls in a bucket of brown and black swirls of monotone colors, he would still radiate that sickly sweet honey-covered yellow that I loved so dearly. He is my sweet honey boy.