You'd rather be talking than sleeping...
"Do you like it?" you whisper, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. You're talking to your crush Awsten, who likes sharing his poetry and lyrics with you. You sometimes do the same.
"I love it," he replies, smiling slightly. His face is hard to make out through the dimmed phone screen, but you can tell that he's smiling.
"Really? You're just saying that."
"That's how words work," he replies dryly, and you roll your eyes. "I saw that."
"No, it's really good," he tells you. "It's beautiful."
"Not nearly as good as your writing," you respond, brushing your hair behind your ear. Normally, you would feel self-conscious video-chatting late at night with someone. Only with Awsten, you don't. You never have to try with him. Everything just happens. And it happens harmoniously. Your personalities mesh like light hitting a crystal and creating a rainbow. Beautiful on their own; even more beautiful together.
"Our writing is different. You can't say better or worse," he replies, still smiling. "You know what we should do?"
"What? Get married and have ten kids?"
"You have to have higher goals," he tuts. "Only ten kids?"
"How many would you want? They're demons."
"They'd be our demons," he replies, making you think of exactly how you would create those demons with him. You envision sitting in a lab with him creating a demon from scratch. Your relationship is weird, to say the least.
"That would mean they'd be truly evil."
"Very true." He lets out a breath. "Right I was trying to say something."
"Before I so rudely interrupted you," you add.
"Exactly. I was going to say that we should try writing something together."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's tell a story together. Let them fit together like pieces of a puzzle," he says, and you purse your lips.
"How well do you think we could do that? You said it yourself: our writing is different."
"That's why they would mesh so well. Imagine how boring it would be if our writing were really similar? You wouldn't be able to see the individuality within the story," he says.
These conversations are the ones you truly adore. You feel like you connect with him on a deeper level. You can imagine reaching into the earth and touching his hand beneath all the rocks, soil, and history of the world.
"That's true," you answer. You imagine squeezing his hand and feeling his soft skin. His fingertips are calloused from playing guitar. He has a bump on his ring finger from writing so much. You want to memorize the feeling of his hand in yours so you can really feel it when you can't physically touch him.
"Do you want to meet tomorrow and do it?"
This time you do think of sex. Just for a minute. You do away with that thought very quickly. You hope it isn't obvious. It's probably written on your face: I was thinking about the sex with you!
"I should have worded that differently," he says, his face flushing slightly. You can't help it: you laugh. You love this about him. He's funny without even trying. "You know what I mean," he says, giggling a bit himself.
"I do know." You smile slightly. "Yeah, let's meet tomorrow and work on it."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"I think we can use each other as inspiration," you respond.
His face lights up. "I love the sound of that."
You can't imagine being happier than you are in this very moment. Yet your heart knows it's possible. With him, it's possible.
sorry for being mia for so longggg
I've been so busyyy