I Wish [ManxMan]🦂

DRAY ~3.

 

I have felt broken inside for a long time. Not knowing. Not wanting to know. Not seeking help or advice because I knew it was all my fault. But being in his arms, in his hold,makes me feel so alive.

The feeling of losing it all. 

Of love going away.

I lean to the touch when he touch me. It's strangely warm. Unlike his personalities and tattoos.

I cry in his arms. In this stranger's arms that are warm. Strong. And…feels so familiar. Like we have known each other for a long time. 

This feeling is beautiful, yet scary. 

Once upon a time I felt like that with Weston. I had it all with him, even when he couldn’t come out to his family. I was happy to have loved him. Having to be his. I guess that’s what love is. 

Then

What is this? This feeling of belonging to this man I don’t know. His warmth engulfed me and all my senses. I want to stay here forever. Hide, knowing he will keep me safe. He will protect me from the world, and even from myself. 

But I can't stay like this, we have a wedding to attend in a  few hours.

I take a breath then slowly move from his arms. He let me, but not from a distance. Just a few inches out of his reach. 

His eyes are deep. Soulful. Like he has been through hell and back. His hands come to my face, rubbing my tears away. His touch is soft, opposite of his body. His bare chest is full of tattoos, drawn like a canva, decorating him so well. From his chest to his arms. He is yummy. Beautiful. 

How did he do this? Make me feel so safe, like I have been enchanted? Almost love spelled. He makes me come out of my shell, break my walls. 

I am at the age where it's rare to meet real connection. Because I could be with this man. But that’s too much to wish for.

***

“I am sorry for dumping my emotions on you.” I say. Awkwardness occupies the room. But he doesn't have any of that. Instead, he nods then turns around to leave. My mouth ran on itself before I could stop it, “stay.” I say, a little too breathless. “ please.”

His shoulders slug, looks down then shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with me, boy.”

“stay.” I repeat again. “I want you to stay.”

He turns around, glances at me. I can see a lot of thoughts running in his head right now. Then he walks in, locks the door behind him and sits down beside me, on the cold floor, leaning on the bed. 

“beer?” I ask

“You have beer?” he looks surprised. “oh.” He says like he understood.

“He wanted me to be comfortable.” I defend.