"Hayton Haddock is the kind of boy you avoid," my best friend had told me.
"Why?" I asked her. She looked thoughtful before answering my question and her eyes kind of glazed over as if remembering something.
"Because young men as beautiful as him should be put behind glass for display, made of pure iron veins. They are composed perfection that only fall apart under covers, with eyes that make you fall so deeply in love that you never realize you're drowning. Hayton Haddock is the kind of boy that makes sin look heavenly, that makes death look like a resurrection. Hot sex and cigarettes, simple drinks and all his human kinks will never look any better than when you see them on him. He makes it look invincible and sexy. He's the kind of person you don't trust because they falter sometimes. He's the perfect boy who isn't perfect at all. And that is something you don't fall in love."
She was wrong though because I did fall in love with him. Everything about him and sitting on his couch in just shorts and a bikini top, he lit the cigarette between my lips, letting the smoke escape. So carefully did he take the smoke in before kissing me, all lips no tongue.
And when he pulled away, I looked him in the eye and said, "Do you love me?"
"More than you can ever imagine, Cybele. You make me want to die just a little older," he whispers to me so sweetly before I'm engulfed in his world, his body, his lips and I've never played games like this. Things were different when it came to him. Do I believe him? I think I did. Because I remember it loud and clear what he said to me the first time he offered me a cigarette.
"Why do you smoke so much?" I asked him.
"Because there are a thousand ways to commit suicide. I'm just taking the slow and painful way out."
And now it seems he was taking me down with him after every drag I took. Hayton Haddock set my lungs on fire, set my head ablaze and I think I'm okay with it. It was almost like a Halsey song, the ones he listened to so much. Something about him was more artistic than the art (oh so wonderful art) he made.
Truly my best friend was right. Boys like Hayton belonged behind glass until secret lovers unbound them under covers. He came apart so carefully and even when he cried, I believed that nobody could be more lovely than him. He was beautiful in all senses of the word. He was lovely in every aspect. He was imperfect yet so perfect and something about him always seemed sexy and daring.
Do you love for the thrill of ending up broken? Or simply for the attractiveness that is forever? Maybe we'd end up dysfunctional, but I was lost in his world and he had me trapped. I knew I was drowning but I prefered the water filling my lungs than the empty air above the ocean.
Just some late night writing. I'm tired but here's this. Its not my best but certainly not my worst either. Leave comments or something idk this is kinda cute. Also its how I characterized Hiccup for this one modern role play I'm doing and I really liked the idea that he's some edgy, sexy kind of bad boy and idk it worked. Here's this. Love it, like it, hate it. Dunno, enjoy. ~A really tired AME
