Prologue.
"What I wouldn't give to be normal. To live in that bubble. Reality of the naive." He said. His eyes locked into mine. I could name every shade and hue of green and blue in his eyes if someone asked me to, know every line and feature on his face even in the dark, but the depth of the emotions he sometimes displays never ceases to surprise me. Each one longing to be named, to be recognized, but they go as fast as they came, gone within the blink of an eye.
"If you were like everybody else, then you wouldn't be Elliot, we never would've met, and I wouldn't be standing right here in front of you." He smiled, he doesn't smile very often, but when he does, his eyes turn the brightest shade of green. I touched his hand, half expecting him to flinch, or pull away, but he doesn't, and I continue to lace our fingers together. His palm was warm, his skin burning against my own, and there is a new kind of fire igniting within his gaze.
"You're right." He doesn't say anymore, and bites his bottom lip. I wonder if he feels the tension too, this indescribable heat between us that just keeps building and building, until we have to separate or else it will consume us.
"I always am..." I smiled at him, and I catch a glimpse of him looking down at my lips, our eyes meet again, and I feel him pulling me towards him, until there is no space between us. His scent is intoxicating, like soap and cigarette smoke, with just a hint of mint. His black hoodie feels worn and lovely beneath my touch as I find myself clinging to him, his lips suddenly pressed against my own.
I kiss him back, this feels right, so right that I start to think I might turn into a saint, if this keeps up. I moan into his mouth and his grip on my waist tightens, there would be bruises, I can tell, but I don't mind, as long as it's him. He takes this chance to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue into mine, and I could taste him, the nicotine and mint driving me into a high. He lifted me up, his arm around my waist and the other gripping my ass, my thighs pressed against his hips. He carried me to his bed, not once breaking our kiss, even when he lowered me onto the mattress. We fit so perfectly, that I wonder if this is destiny, or perhaps some sick joke the universe decided to play on us. He thrust his hips, creating sweet friction between us, we are so close now. I never knew I could feel so exposed and naked, while fully clothed, until he looked at me, his eyes slowly undressing, his lips lightly caressing. And it was then that I realized how deliciously dangerous he is, how wonderfully wicked. He is sin wrapped in black cotton and nicotine. Oh, father forgive me for I have sinned.
Babe, there's something tragic about you,
Something so magic about you.
Don't you agree?
- From Eden, Hozier