You Sunshine, You Temptress (l.s)

Hope That You Don't Run From Me

Louis

I always enjoy the early hours of the morning with him. There's no pressure to say the right thing, no outside forces or voices coming between us, it's just simple. It's me and him tangled between the sheets and whispering sweet nothings as if they were secrets only meant for the other to hear. It's the sunrise caressing his milky skin. It's light giggles, messy fringes, red cheeks, and tender kisses mixed with morning breath but we couldn't care less because it's us. 

Every moment I spend with him is a breath of simplicity. 

It's a funny thing, really. Every time I think things couldn't possibly get better with him, they just do. Last night was the first night I was able to show him a different side of me, and I didn't feel the least bit afraid. For the first time in so long, I was beginning to show vulnerability. 

He saw the cracks and the imperfections underneath the surface. He saw what I see every time I look in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of the past that haunts me every single day, and he accepted it.

He took me into his arms with an open mind and open heart, and he accepted it without a shadow of a doubt. There was no hesitation behind his eyes or uncertainty in his embrace, it was warmth and tenderness. It was pleading and passionate yet soft kisses laced in a need to nurture and protect me. It was the physical embodiment of fragility all while desperation overtook his every thought. 

It hurt him to think that someone could hurt me. All this time I thought I was the one who needed to protect him, but he's found a way to be the protection and warmth I didn't know I needed.

Sure there may be things he doesn't know yet, but the way he showed complete acceptance of my baggage proved to me that maybe one day I could open up completely. One day I could show him the darkest and ugliest parts of me, and all I can do is hope that he accepts them the way he did in my arms last night.

My eyes were trained on the television across the room, but his eyes were more interested in the art on my skin.

"I want tattoos" He pouted, resting his chin in his hand and dragging his fingers over my inked skin. 

I lift my hand to pinch the skin on his arms. "What was that for?" He grimaced, rubbing his reddened skin. 

"You can't handle getting pinched, you definitely can't handle a needle digging into your skin" He pinches me back. Well, he tries but it felt like one of Phoebe's pathetic pinches. 

"Does it really hurt that bad?" He brushes his fringe out of his eyes and stares at the ink beneath my collarbone.

"Not really, kinda just depends on the placement. This one right here hurt pretty bad" I point to my 78 tattoo and he nods, paying close attention. "It feels like a really hot cat scratch digging in your skin over and over"

His eyes widen and he scrunched his nose. "What the heck? Why would anyone want to do that? It sounds awful"

"Cause it looks cool, don't you think?" He thinks about it for a couple of seconds before nodding and returning to his concentrated tattoo tracing. 

"What's this one mean?" He asks suddenly, pointing to my tattoo of a tic tac toe board.

"Nothing, just thought it'd look cool" I shrug, laughing quietly at how his tongue pokes out slightly when he's searching for tattoos to talk about.

"And this one?" His fingers tap over my skating stick-man tattoo. "Most of my tattoos hold no real meaning, Haz. It's just some random guy skating"

The concept of someone getting a tattoo without it having some deep meaning is completely lost on him, but I find it utterly adorable. 

"This one?" He points to the stag on my right bicep. "I just like the way it looks. Stags are strong, and that's just something I've always wanted to be, I guess"