Pyramids [Frank Ocean]

Bad Religion.

"Hey." His voice greets warmly, unbeknownst to the woman in front of him that his palms were damp from anxiety. She greets him sweetly, taking a moment to ravish her in all her glory.

"Frank." She blinked while staring down at her painted toes, embellished in the finest designer heels. "Can I come in?"

His eyes widened, embarrassed at his lack of manners, "I'm sorry! Be my guest."

She sauntered past him as he took the time to take in her beauty, her scent, her essence. He gulped as Hana smiled in curtly, analyzing the loft Frank had now settled into after saving enough money from royalties to move out of his last apartment.

The loft was spacious and offered a beautiful view of Los Angeles's nightlife. Hana stared in awe as she grazed Frank's custom-made piano that sat in the middle of his living room. Placing a light tap on the keys that emitted sounds throughout the dimly lit room. Upon arrival Frank's heart thumped against his chest as he grazed Hana's body with his eyes.

Looking like a fucking sin in that dress. He was almost sure she'd worn that on purpose, to ignite him.

"Dinner's almost ready." He mumbled in humble attempts to clear the elephant in the room. She nods approvingly before placing herself at the dining table, assorted with the nicest of clutters to add appeal to the nicely decorated loft—his whole theme was rather minimalistic compared to the mundane four walls of the homeless shelter that seemed to consume Hana's mood.

Here she felt more at home than she ever did. At the homeless shelter, Hana felt—hopeless.

Her dark thoughts interrupted by a riveting scent of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes with a side of cornbread, and spinach. Placing it gingerly in front of her alongside a paper towel and utensils, Frank sat down across from her. His gap inviting her to return a warm smile—she'd sworn this was him, it was always him. The person she loved, an emotion denied from her this whole time, was right across from her, at arms length.

"Shall we say grace?" He queried with a quirked eyebrow as Hana placed her hands in his.

"You know I'm not a religious woman, Frank."

Her teasing was enough to earn a wholesome laugh from the young man while his smooth palms rubbed over her fingers gently.

"For me?" His inquiry coming out as a mere fact. The fact that her presence was enough, enough to thank his God. After months of countless searching, Hana reached out to him deliberately and initiated their meet-up. God.

She nods, "Okay, just don't expect me to pray then."

"Of course." His smile shifting to a fine line as he instructed Hana to bow her head and close her eyes.