A few more minutes till dawn. I listened to the hum of the city as I took in the breathtaking view in front of me. You.
In the hazy glow of the skyscrapers, you looked like a masterpiece carved precisely from smooth marble. Nothing too sharp or jagged, nothing too plump or misshapen. Everything was perfectly aligned.
I couldn't believe I was lying in bed with an artist's dream.
Heck, Harry Styles, you were everyone's dream.
And exactly what did I do to make everyone's dream my reality?
The sun was already beginning to rise, but the only rising I wanted to watch was that of your chest. I ran my fingers over the dark ink that was etched into your skin. Every picture, another story.
Oh, you just never fail to fascinate me.
I felt your body do the slightest of movements underneath my touch, and I knew you were on the verge of waking. It only happened a few seconds later when your eyes fluttered open, and I was once again met with the same chartreuse gaze that got me in this bed a few hours ago.
I should be used to this by now, but it seems like every morning is a slow process that could go on forever if I'd like. I had the world right at my fingertips.
We do this every single day, yet I still can't help but fall in awe of the Adonis who's got his limbs tangled in mine.
"Good morning, my love."
YOU ARE READING
Platinum // H.S.
Fanfiction"I don't get it, Alba. Why do you write to him if you aren't going to send the letters, anyway?" In which a girl's letters to her ex boyfriend are accidentally sent.
