Heliophilia (n.) - an attraction or adaptation to sunlight.
A heliophile like you was bound to fall for the sun like him.
Rays of sunshine highlighted his radiant figure, strings of gleaming gold weaved in his fiber that gives you sunspots in the c...
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"Time feels like it goes faster the more we spend our lives together... doesn't it?"
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AUTUMN leaves gracefully descended from the trees as if they were gifts blessed by the great sky.
The beautiful arrays of warm colors painted the setting beautifully, just like those expensive paintings hung up in your house. The trees were colored brown and scarlet, the trunks a darker shade, and the horizons a lighter hue. With a setting sun ready to retreat to the far mountains, you knew you had to go home too.
Yet, you made no hints of movement from your current position. In fact, you held your breath to keep the leaves atop you from moving an inch, your little hands pressing against your mouth as your large eyes peeked through the holes of your nature fort of leaves. You've been in the position for at least three minutes and you can't tell if the leaves covering your legs have fallen off or if those atop your head were even covering your tufts of [hair color] anymore. You thought of fixing your protection but decided against it.
A leaf falls to your face, and you promptly blew it away with enough gentleness to not shake your fragile fort. But the moment you did so, rustles emerged nearby and thinking what you think it is, you rendered yourself silent and unmoving. Your heart pounded within your ears, your eyes wide with anticipation.
More rustles. Footsteps.
Since you couldn't move your head, you opted only for your eyes to move. And there, in your periphery, was a familiar pair of slippers inching closer to your stagnant build. They weren't heavy, but each step emits rumbles that you painfully felt since you were sprawled across the ground, and you think it was only causing your heart to palpitate more.
More steps, more vibrations, and more trepidation.
The feet finally stop just in front of you, like it was taunting your very existence. Mere centimeters away from your face. You couldn't look up, because doing so will disrupt the leaves camouflaging your existence, and it makes your heart pound in your chest all the more because you can't decipher what he was currently thinking, or if he was even aware that you were by his foot. You could only mindlessly bite and chew your bottom lip to calm the jitters in your nerves.
A sigh. "Where is she..."
And after what seems an eviternity, his slippers finally move, moving away from where he stood – from where you hid – and walking away. Yet, you dared not let go of your oxygen, not until his steps, his vibrations, and your trepidation faded away.
Until he was no more.
And you sigh out of relief. Even your periphery held no sign of your finder nearby. Uncaring if you destroy the pile of leaves covering your entire body, you then lift your head up from the ground and reached to rub the itch away from your cheeks that had been irritated from the leaves for the past minutes. As beautiful as they are, you now know that a pile of autumn leaves may not be the best hiding spot to use–
